DR.  NORTH 
AND  HIS  FRIENDS 


Butbor's  JEMtton 


DR.  NORTH 
AND  HIS  FRIENDS 


S.  WEIR    MITCHELL,   M.D. 


LL.D.    HARVARD    AND    EDINBURGH 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 
1903 


Copyright,  1900,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 


THE  DEVINNE  PRESS, 


5)1 


TO 
HOKACE  HOWAED  FURNESS 

WITH  EVEB  PLEASANT  MEMOBIES 

OF 

MANY  YEAKS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


32881)8 


The  people  who  won  for  "Characteristics" 
a  continually  increasing  number  of  friends 
reappear  with  others  in  this  present  book. 
When  published  in  the  "  Century  Magazine  " 
at  least  one  third  of  it  was  of  necessity 
omitted.  It  now  appears  in  full. 

S.  WEIR  MITCHELL. 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 


DE.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS 


(ABLY  in  the  summer,  five  years  after 
my  marriage  with  Alice  Leigh,  my  friend 
Clayborne  moved  into  the  country.  This 
step  surprised  all  of  our  little  circle.  He 
had  said  nothing  about  it,  and  on  our 
return  from  our  holiday  we  learned,  for  the  first  time, 
of  this  amazing  change.  I  say  amazing,  because  the 
great  scholar  liked  company  of  his  own  choosing,  and 
the  move  thus  made  was  sure  to  deprive  him  of  the 
occasional  visits  of  many  whom  he  was  well  pleased 
to  see.  He  explained  his  action  by  the  statement  that 
he  desired  to  have  more  leisure  to  complete  his  work 
on  the  Mohammedan  sects,  which  was  now  nearing  a 
conclusion.  We,  his  friends,  were  not  well  pleased  to 
have  this  familiar  resort  so  far  removed,  nor  were  we 
quite  satisfied  with  his  reasons  for  this  radical  alter 
ation  in  his  mode  of  life. 

He  had  in  the  past  lacked  neither  will  nor  way  to 
secure  to  himself  the  solitude  in  which  thought  ma 
tures.  When  he  had  been  of  a  mind  to  be  alone  we 
respected  the  least  hint  of  such  intention,  and  none 
of  us,  except  St.  Clair,  ventured  to  intrude.  As  to 

1 


2  BE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

this  indulged  favorite,  Clayborne  said  grimly,  "One 
cannot  make  laws  for  kittens." 

We  of  course  discussed  among  ourselves  this  change 
of  residence,  which  seemed  to  us  to  involve  so  much, 
but  soon  ceased  to  criticize,  being  sure  that  our  friend 
must,  as  usual,  have  competent  reasons  for  so  great 
an  alteration  in  his  mode  of  life.  Moreover,  we  were 
not  given  to  that  excess  of  gossip  about  friends  or 
relatives  which  is  common.  Vincent  especially  dis 
liked  such  debates.  We  decided  that,  at  all  events, 
Clayborne's  change  of  home  must  not  be  allowed  to 
lessen  the  freedom  of  relation  which  had  come  to 
mean  so  much  for  all  concerned.  And  yet  as  some 
of  us  were  very  busy  people,  Clayborne's  move  did  at 
times  render  inconvenient  the  claim  he  never  ceased 
to  make  on  the  men  and  women  who  were  dear  to 
him. 

St.  Glair  had  just  before  this  time  returned  from 
wandering  in  the  East  Indies.  Nothing  unusual  in  the 
lives  of  men  surprised  him.  He  laughed  when  he 
heard  of  Clayborne's  change  of  residence,  and  said  it 
was  well,  and  that  perhaps  now  he  would  learn  to  tell 
a  pine  from  a  hemlock ;  and  did  Mrs.  Vincent  know 
why  he  had  chosen  the  country,  for  which  he  had  a 
frequently  declared  want  of  taste  ? 

Mrs.  Vincent  shook  her  head  at  this,  and  declined 
to  express  an  opinion.  She  knew  no  more  than  we, 
but  had  a  well-understood  weakness  as  to  being  sup 
posed  to  know  more  of  Clayborne  than  the  rest  of  us. 
This  was  at  times  a  source  of  annoyance  to  my  wife. 

Vincent  thought  that  the  scholar  had  been  wise,  and 
that  all  men  when  growing  old  should  escape  from 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  3 

cities,  because  age  is  irritable,  and  some  limitation  of 
human  contact  becomes  therefore  desirable.  As  Clay- 
borne  liked  nothing  better  than  a  bitter  feud  with 
other  scholars,  and,  failing  this,  a  tangled  lawsuit,  the 
explanation  did  not  seem  to  me  to  assist  our  quest 
after  reasonably  explanatory  motives. 

When  I  told  Mrs.  Vincent  that  Clayborne  had 
bought  his  new  home  two  years  before  he  moved  into 
it,  she  remarked,  with  an  air  of  gentle  dejection: 
"And  he  never  told  me.  Did  he  tell  Alice  ? "  This 
was  my  wife.  Fortunately  I  was  able  to  say  "  No," 
and  that  he  had  altered  the  house  and  had  the  garden 
put  in  order  nearly  a  year  ago.  "And  never  men 
tioned  it  ? " 

"  No ;  certainly  not  to  me.  He  may  have  told  Fred 
Vincent;  as  his  counsel,  he  may  very  likely  have 
done  so." 

"  I  shall  ask  him  why  he  was  so  mysterious,"  said 
she,  decisively.  I  was  very  sure  that  she  would  do 
nothing  of  the  kind. 

We  ourselves  had  returned  to  the  city  early  in  the 
autumn.  Clayborne  called  at  once,  and  then  it  was 
that,  for  the  first  time,  we  learned  of  the  new  home, 
for,  as  I  have  said,  he  had  been  silent  as  to  the  matter, 
and,  I  fancy,  rather  enjoyed  the  completeness  of  our 
surprise.  He  bade  us  to  come  out  any  afternoon 
and  see  his  house.  We  must  arrange  to  come  with 
the  Vincents,  he  added,  and  with  no  more  words  he 
left  us. 

"I  did  want  to  ask  him  so  many  questions,"  said 
my  wife. 

We  drove  to  Holm  wood  of  a  delightful  afternoon, 


4  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

into  a  neighborhood  somewhat  unfamiliar,  to  me  at 
least.  As  we  reached  the  house  Clay  borne  was  in  the 
act  of  mounting  for  his  daily  ride.  He  turned  back 
much  pleased,  and  with  the  eager  joy  of  a  child 
showed  us  over  the  house  and  garden,  loading  Mrs. 
Vincent  and  my  wife  with  autumn  flowers.  The 
drawing-room  was  still  without  furniture.  Mrs.  Vin 
cent  was  to  furnish  it,  he  told  her.  A  wise  arrange 
ment  ;  her  taste  was  perfect.  My  wife  said :  "  How 
delightful,  Anne !  We  must  talk  it  over  together." 
"Certainly,  dear";  but  I,  who  am  sometimes  wise, 
knew  this  talk  would  never  occur,  or,  if  it  did,  would 
never  have  materially  influential  results. 

These  two  women  loved  each  other  sincerely,  but 
were  inclined  to  feed,  with  fractional  opportunities, 
the  reserve  of  half -concealed  jealousy  they  felt  as  to 
Clayborne.  At  one  time,  years  before,  Mrs.  Vincent 
did  not  like  him,  then  she  endured  him,  and  at  last 
was  conquered  by  his  honest  qualities  and  his  devo 
tion  to  Frederick  Vincent.  My  wife  had  always 
liked  him. 

We  remained  an  hour,  and  as  we  were  leaving 
Clayborne  insisted  that  we  should  dine  with  him 
every  Saturday,  or  at  least  while  the  autumn  weather 
made  the  little  journey  agreeable.  To  this  we  will 
ingly  assented.  "  I  have  some  queer  people  to  show 
you  by  and  by,"  he  said  j  "  some  of  my  neighbors  and 
others.  You  have  always  wanted  a  round  table ; 
now,  my  dear  ladies,  I  have  one." 

We  had  a  glad  welcome  at  that  first  dinner.  He 
was  particular  about  his  diet,  and  had  the  peculiarity 
of  giving  but  one  wine  during  the  dinner.  It  might 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS      .  5 

be  a  Burgundy,  a  claret,  or  a  vintage  champagne,  but 
we  were  given  no  other  until,  after  our  good  old 
fashion,  the  cloth  was  removed  and  the  decanters  of 
Madeira  were  set  on  the  well-rubbed  mahogany  table. 
Vincent  and  I  had  often  remonstrated  with  our 
friend  on  his  disregard  of  the  tastes  of  his  guests. 
He  replied  that  the  Jews  had  the  sense  not  to  mix 
wines  when  they  drank.  Vincent  remarked  that  a 
too  generous  use  of  texts  would  probably  leave  us 
neither  drink  nor  diet,  and  certainly  would  forbid 
champagne.  We  did  not  change  Clayborne's  ways, 
and  he  continued,  I  do  not  know  why,  to  limit  us  to 
the  one  wine  he  that  day  fancied.  At  table  he  talked 
very  little,  but  knew  well  how  to  keep  going  the  talk 
of  others.  Now  and  then  he  could  be  teased  into 
strenuous  gusts  of  talk,  though  rarely  into  the  merry 
give  and  take  of  lighter  chat.  When  by  good  luck 
in  this  more  companionable  mood  he  was  the  best 
table-comrade  I  ever  knew,  although  since  then  I 
have  sat  beside  Lowell  and  George  Meredith,  and 
dined  often  with  one  great  bishop,  who,  when  at  his 
best,  was  a  brilliant  companion. 

But  it  was  after  dining,  when  we  had  wandered 
into  the  great  library,  that  Clayborne  was  most 
happy.  It  had  long  been  understood  that  Anne  Vin 
cent  and  my  wife  should  share  with  us  the  pleasant 
privilege  of  this  easy  digestive  hour.  Here  in  the 
great  book-lined  room  we  chatted  in  groups,  or  were 
free  to  wander  in  this  home  of  learning,  to  look  at 
the  latest  additions,  or  to  comment  on  the  last  new 
water-color  left  on  the  table  for  St.  Glair's  stringent 
criticisms.  Soon  or  late  we  were  sure  to  settle  down 


6  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

about  the  blazing  hickory  logs.  The  coffee  and  li 
queurs  were  left  on  a  side-table,  pipe  or  cigar  was 
lighted,  and  we  talked  or  were  silent,  as  suited  the 
after-dinner  mood  of  each. 

I  had  been  respectfully  and  temperately  amused 
during  this  first  dinner,  by  a  slight  discussion  which 
arose  as  to  the  furnishing  of  the  drawing-room,  con 
fided  to  Anne  Vincent's  taste.  Clayborne  had  him 
self  some  indistinct  appreciation  of  the  fact  that  he 
was  looked  upon  as  the  legitimate  prey  of  two  un 
usual  women.  He  liked  it.  He  had  always  been 
happy  in  friendship  and  luckless  in  love,  and  this  I 
believe  to  be  common.  In  middle  age  he  began,  as 
St.  Clair  once  said,  to  collect  a  variety  of  friendships, 
and  gave  up  all  effort  to  find  a  domestic  partner. 
His  two  women  friends  constantly  advised  marriage ; 
but,  as  Vincent  said,  this  advice  was  given  for  self- 
justification  alone,  and  meant  nothing.  In  fact, 
although,  as  I  have  observed,  Mrs.  Vincent  and  my 
wife  were  jealous  of  each  other,  they  were  ready,  with 
childlike  absence  of  self-analysis,  to  unite  forces 
against  any  other  woman  who  seemed  desirous  of 
sharing  in  the  task  of  looking  after  Clayborne's  com 
fort.  Men  are  rarely  jealous  as  to  their  friends; 
women  are  often  thus  when  the  friends  are  men,  and 
sometimes  when  they  are  women  :  but  this  latter  is  a 
vice  of  youth.  I  am  not  sure  that  to  be  capable  of 
controlled  jealousy  is  not  a  needful  qualification  for 
both  love  and  friendship. 

As  we  came  out  from  dinner  Vincent  and  his  wife 
and  I  settled  down  with  our  host  near  to  the  fire ; 
St.  Clair  and  Mrs.  North  wandered  about  the  room. 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  7 

She  had  come  hither  by  an  earlier  train,  and  had  busied 
herself  in  decorating  the  library  with  great  branches 
of  gloriously  tinted  maple  and  oak.  At  the  hearth- 
side  there  was  silence  awhile,  for  here  we  felt  free  to 
say  nothing  when  we  were  so  disposed. 

St.  Clair  said  to  my  wife :  "  Why  do  you  bring  all 
this  autumn  splendor  out  of  the  woods  to  shrivel  in  a 
hot  room  ? " 

"Why  not?"  she  asked. 

"Why  not?  It  was  alive  on  its  slow,  beautiful, 
changeful  way  to  nature's  death." 

My  wife  never  quite  admitted  the  honesty  of  some 
of  St.  Glair's  fancies.  "  Why,"  said  she,  "  do  you  air 
these  affectations  before  us  who  know  you  ?  Now,  is 
it  not  pure  affectation  ?  " 

"I  thank  the  affectations  of  life  that  I  know  at 
least  one  woman  who  never  allows  a  flower  to  be  cut 
in  her  garden." 

"  And  who  is  she  ?  " 

"  As  if  I  would  tell  you !  The  next  thing  would  be 
her  conversion  to  brutal  common— very,  very  common 
—sense.  A  word  of  surprise  would— well,  would 
change  her." 

"  Then  she  must  be  rather  weak.  I  am  sorry  that 
any  woman  should  be  so  foolish." 

"  Thank  God  for  the  fools  !  "  he  returned.  «  What 
were  life  without  them?  There  is  no  promise  of 
wisdom  in  another  world.  That  is  a  comfort.  There 
will,  I  trust,  be  a  few  fool-angels.  No,  as  I  live,  I 
am  never  affected.  I  am  impulsive,  excessive;  I 
represent  in  extremes  what  I  am  sure  you  feel,  must 
feel.  The  next  time  you  cut  a  great  lily,  think,  think ! 


8  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

Do  you  like  to  see  a  noble  tree  fall,  ruined  by  the  ax  ? 
It  gives  you  a  pang.  Oh,  it  does  !  n 

"  Yes,  it  does." 

"  Well,  what  of  the  lily  ?  All  deaths  are  horrible 
to  me.  I  never  got  over  the  scene  in  that  hospital 
with  North.  He  said  death  was  common.  So  said 
Hamlet's  stepfather,  but  I  doubt  if  that  comforted  the 
melancholy  prince,  or  any  heart  before  or  since.  No 
one  really  believes  in  death ;  I  do  not.  I  suppose  you 
think  that  nonsense." 

"  I  do.  But  as  to  the  oak.  It  is  centuries  old,  all 
manner  of  romance  surrounds  its  life.  If  I  were  a 
poet  I  could— oh,  how  hard  to  be  unable  to  answer 
fitly ! " 

"  Then  let  me  help,  and  answer,  too,  for  oak  and 
lily.  No,  it  is  not  my  verse. 

It  is  not  growing  like  a  tree 

In  bulk,  doth  make  Man  better  be ; 

Or  standing  long  an  oak,  three  hundred  year, 

To  fall  a  log  at  last,  dry,  bald,  and  sear : 
A  lily  of  a  day 
Is  fairer  far  in  May, 
Although  it  fall  and  die  that  night- 
It  was  the  plant  and  flower  of  Light. 

In  small  proportions  we  just  beauty  see ; 

And  in  short  measures  life  may  perfect  be." 

"You  have  no  right  to  call  in  other  folks  to  help 
you  to  say  things ;  and  yet  the  verse  was  worth  while. 
Thank  you.  It  is  not  unfamiliar.  I  forgive  and  be 
lieve  you.  But  as  you  are  an  avowed  vegetarian  since 


DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  9 

you  came  home,  what  of —say  the  cabbages  cut  for 
dinner  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they  are  ugly." 

"So  is  Clayborne,"  she  said,  pointing  with  her  fan. 
He  was  of  a  grand,  nobly  rugged  type  of  ugliness. 
"Would  that  make  it  a  less  crime  to  do  for  him  as 
some  of  his  critics  would  desire  ? " 

"  I  hate  argument,"  he  replied. 

"  But  this  is  illustration." 

"Oh,  I  hate  illustration.  Did  you  see  the  new 
edition  of  my  book  of  poems?  The  illustrations 
were— I  always  see  the  illustrations  now.  They 
have  killed  my  ideal  people  in  the  drama,  and  set 
in  their  place  lay  figures.  Illustrations  never  il 
lustrate." 

As  Clayborne  and  Vincent  at  the  fireside  were 
smoking  in  entire  silence,  I  carried  my  cigar  across 
the  library,  to  where  my  wife's  laughter  called  me. 

"  A  laugh  is  always  a  riddle,"  I  said.  "  What  is 
amusing  you,  Alice?" 

"  We  were  discussing  illustrations.  But  I  was  just 
now  laughing  at  the  way  Mr.  St.  Clair  wriggled  out 
of  an  absurd  proposition.  On  the  whole  I  agree  with 
him  in  his  dislike  of  the  illustrations  in  well-known 
books,  and  yet,"  she  added,  turning  to  him,  "  there  is 
something  more  to  be  said.  Remember  how  the  great 
masters  have  illustrated  the  Bible  stories.  When  I 
think  of  the  Virgin  it  is  the  tender  figure  of  Del 
Sarto's  l  Annunciation '  I  see.  And  then  there  is  the 
Christ  of  the  Brera,  Da  Vinci's.  That  does  help  one 
to  realize  the  Christus.  I  think— I  am  sure  that  face 
has  done  much  good,  has  helped  many.  I  once  saw 


10  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

a  grave,  middle-aged  officer  stand  long  before  that 
picture.  He  walked  away  in  tears." 

"You  are  right/'  returned  St.  Glair;  "but  oil- 
paintings  are  not  in  my  sense  illustrations.  I  might 
urge  also  the  fact  that  even  the  great  artists  have 
sometimes  hurt,  rather  than  helped,  our  appreciation 
of  some  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  Bible  stories. 
Ideals  are  tender  things ;  one  has  to  be  careful.  But 
we  were  really  talking  of  the  books  of  to-day.  As  to 
helpful  illustration  of  the  Bible,  no  modern  man  seems 
to  be  competent.  These  fables  you  good  people  so 
lightly  accept— 

"  Stop,  please,"  said  my  wife ;  "  you  know  our  agree 
ment.  You  are  on  forbidden  ground." 

"  I  step  off  it,"  he  said  gently.  "  Pardon  the  tres 
passer." 

"  Thank  you ;  but  tell  me,  was  it  that  the  great 
painters  honestly  believed  with  a  faith  unmatched  to 
day  ? " 

"  No  j  they  were  a  most  dissolute  lot,  those  old  fel 
lows;  some  had  no  more  belief  than  Filippo  Lippi. 
They  painted  for  priest,  pope,  or  prince,  to  order,  and 
were  paid,  as  I  was  for  my  last  book  or  statue." 

My  wife  paused  in  thought  for  a  moment,  and  said : 
"  Work  is  none  the  worse  because  men  pay  for  it. 
But  it  was  not  money  which  gave  them  something 
the  world  has  missed  ever  since.  You  say  they  had 
no  faith,  or  at  least  that  some  of  the  greatest  had  no 
more  than  has  many  an  artist  to-day.  Why,  then, 
were  they  so  great  ? " 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  he  replied.  "  It  was  because  they 
were  both  poets  and  artists.  Certainly  the  greatest 


DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  11 

were  poets.  Who  is  this  to-day?  What  artist— 
Rossetti  j  yes.  But  who  else  ?  Who  else  writes 
poetry?  These  men  did:  Da  Vinci,  Raphael,  and 
Michael  the  Archangel,  who  was  the  Milton  of  painters. 
I  do  not  say  a  deep  faith  would  not  have  gone  for 
something.  No  doubt  some  of  them  had  it  at  times ; 
but  now  art  has  neither  faith  nor  poetry,  and  imagi 
nation  in  art  is  dead— dead." 

"  And  yet  two  years  ago  you  saw  the  future  of  all 
art  in  the  Church  of  Rome.  You  meant  to  become 
a  monk.  You  tried  it." 

"  I  did,  for  three  weeks.     They  were  dirty.     I  left." 

"Three  weeks  was  pretty  long.  You  are  like  a 
bird.  Every  bough  is  good  for  a  while ;  then  the 
wind  swings  it  and  away  you  go." 

St.  Clair  tossed  up  his  hands  in  mirthful  protest. 
"  Alas  for  the  limitations  of  friendship  !  Let  us  join 
those  by  the  fire.  The  room  is  cold,  and  we  are  on 
the  way  to  a  minor  quarrel.  Only  my  sweet  temper 
saved  us.  How  is  the  girl  ? " 

"  She  is  four  years  old  to-day.  You  have  not  seen 
her  for  a  week,  and  I  told  you  then  of  her  birthday. 
Will  you  kindly  explain  that,  sir  ? "  When  at  home 
he  rarely  passed  a  day  without  seeing  the  child. 

"  I  was  very  busy,"  he  said ;  "  my  best  workman 
got  himself  married ;  I  was  busy." 

"Ah,  my  dear  Mr.  St.  Clair,"  cried  the  indignant 
mother,  "  your  life  is  punctuated  with  excuses  !  " 

"  How  cruel  you  are  !  I  shall  come  to-morrow.  I 
have  two  Indian  dolls  for  the  maid,  and  a  Thibet  shawl 
for  you.  Only  don't  abuse  me.  What  is  Mrs.  Vin 
cent  saying  ? " 


12  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  You  are  a  delightful  man,"  said  my  wife.  "  I 
always  accept  practical  excuses.  Let  us  go  and  hear 
Anne  Vincent.  I  think  she  must  be  rousing  Mr. 
Clayborne;  I  have  not  heard  his  voice  this  half- 
hour." 

We  went  across  the  room  and  found  places  at  the 
fireside.  Mrs.  Vincent  had,  as  we  learned,  just  an 
nounced  a  Frenchwoman's  dictum  as  to  conversa 
tion.  She  said:  "I  saw  in  a  very  unpleasant  book 
yesterday  what  a  Frenchwoman  said  of  conversation ; 
she  thought  there  would  be  only  silence  if  gossip, 
scandal,  the  fatuous  and  commonplace  were  left  out 
of  social  talk." 

"  She  was  right,"  said  Clayborne,  through  a  cloud 
of  smoke. 

"Let  us  accept  her  proposition,"  said  Vincent, 
"  and  talk  scandal,  gossip,  and  commonplace,  and  fine 
any  one  a  dollar  who  says  any  intelligent  thing." 

"But,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "I  forbid  gossip." 

"  And  I  scandal,"  cried  my  wife. 

"  Then,"  laughed  St.  Clair,  "  we  are  reduced  to  the 
commonplace— 

"  And  fatuous,"  I  added. 

"Well,  begin,  one  of  you.  It  should  be  easy," 
smiled  Clayborne. 

There  was  a  long  silence. 

"Commonplaces  seem  to  exact  a  good  deal  of 
thinking,"  laughed  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  No,"  said  Clayborne ;  "  they  imply  absence  of 
thought.  And  we  fail  because  we  are  all  thinking, 
which  is  quite  uncommon." 

"  One  dollar  gone,"  cried  I.     "  Try  it  again." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  13 

The  poet  said,  with  the  tone  of  one  conducting  a 
party  of  tourists :  "  The  Venus  of  Milo  is  universally 
acknowledged  to  be  the  most  beautiful  of  statues." 

"  Stuff !  "  said  Clayborne  ;  "  it  is  not  Venus,  and 
the  Japanese  consider  it  a  quite  brutal  type." 

"  Pay  up,"  said  St.  Clair,  overjoyed. 

"  There  is  no  such  thing  as  universally  indubitable 
commonplace,"  said  my  wife j  "it  is  a  question  of 
time  and  people.  You  had  best  begin  by  denning  it." 

"  It  does  not  exist  as  a  noun  in  the  old  dictionaries. 
1  To  commonplace  is  to  reduce  to  general  heads/  says 
Johnson.  The  trite,  stale,  and  hackneyed  is  a  more 
modern  definition,"  said  Clayborne.  "We  seem  to 
be  sadly  incompetent.  Commonplace— well,  that  is 
something  any  one  can  say  and  any  one  can  under 
stand.  There  is  Tupper,  a  forgotten  name,  and 
Walt  Whitman ;  my  second  definition  covers  their 
trash." 

"Ah,  now,"  cried  St.  Clair,  "my  good  old  poet 
Walt ! * 

Clayborne  sat  up  alert.  "  He  was  neither  poet  nor 
—confound  our  tongue !  I  want  to  revive  an  old 
word— nor  proser.  He  was  so  vain  that  he  had  no 
power  of  self-criticism.  No  man  is  great  who  has  lost 
power  to  be  self-critical.  I  asked  him  once  if  he 
thought  Shakespeare  as  great  a  poet  as  he  himself. 
He  said  he  had  often  considered  that  question,  and 
had  never  been  able  to  make  up  his  mind." 

"  Oh,  but  he  was  jesting,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  No,  not  at  all,"  said  I.  "  I,  too,  knew  him  well. 
He  was  matchless  in  his  vanity.  He  had  the  courage 
of  his  vanity.  Very  few  strong  people  are  fearless 


14  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

enough  to  tell  you  their  honest  self-estimate.  The 
poets  have  been  decently  shy  about  that.  One  would 
like  to  know  where  Wordsworth  and  Shelley  ranked 
themselves  in  the  peerage  of  genius." 

"Tell  us  more  about  Walt  Whitman/7  said  Mrs. 
Vincent.  "He  must  have  been  anything  but  com 
monplace." 

"  I  will  tell  you  something,"  said  I.  "  He  consulted  a 
physician,  a  friend  of  mine,  some  time  ago.  When 
about  to  leave,  well  pleased  with  advice  to  live  out  of 
doors  and  to  take  no  physic,  he  asked  what  he  was  to 
give  as  a  fee.  The  doctor  said :  l  The  debt  was  paid 
long  ago ;  it  is  you  who  are  still  the  creditor.7  Walt 
rose  up,  with  his  great  head  like  that  of  the  Capitoline 
Jove,  and  saying,  *  Thank  you  j  good  morning,7  went 
out  of  the  room  as  a  stout  lady  entered.  A  moment 
later  he  reappeared,  without  knocking,  set  two  large 
hands  on  the  table  opposite  to  the  doctor,  and  said, 
<  That,  sir,  I  call  poetry ! 7 " 

"  How  pretty !  "  cried  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  But  what 
did  the  stout  lady  say  I " 

"  I  asked  that  very  question.  She  said,  when  Walt 
had  gone,  'Is  the  gentleman  insane?7  The  doctor 
said  l  Yes 7 ;  as  he  was  a  poet  he  was  of  course  cracked 
at  times,  and  that  his  name  was  Walt  Whitman. 
The  stout  lady  was  the  head  of  a  school.  She  de 
clared  that  although  his  books  were  not  for  young 
ladies,  she  wished  she  had  known  his  name  in  time  to 
ask  for  an  autograph.  The  doctor  consoled  her  with 
a  note  of  Walt  Whitman's." 

"  Do  they  still  bother  you  for  autographs,  Clay- 
borne  ? "  said  Vincent. 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  15 

"Yes,  now  and  then.  I  use  the  stamps,  and  tear 
up  their  letters." 

"And  never  answer  them?"  said  my  wife. 
"Never?" 

"Yes,  I  did  once.  A  persistent  young  woman 
wrote  to  me  three  times,  and  in  a  rage  I  answered 
her  at  last.  I  wrote : 

What  can  a  wise  man  do  but  laugh 
At  fools  who  ask  an  autograph? 

That  is  the  only  poetry  I  ever  wrote." 

"But  she  got  what  she  asked  for?"  said  St.  Clair. 

"No,"  growled  Clayborne;  "my  secretary  wrote 
it." 

"  I  consider  that  cruel,"  said  my  wife. 

"  Unkind,  she  said  it  was,  and  then  declared,  to  my 
surprise,  that  she  was  a  far-away  New  England  cousin, 
and  that  I  might  have  been  contented  to  make  no 
reply,  and  that  she  would  trouble  me  no  more." 

"  This  being  her  fourth  letter,"  said  I. 

"  Yes.  I  suppose  that  if  you  were  written  to  once 
a  week  as  to  something  you  had  no  mind  to  do,  at 
some  time  the  request  would  find  you  in  the  mood  to 
say  yes." 

"That,"  said  I,  "is  the  principle  of  fly-fishing,  of 
making  love,  and  of  advertising." 

"  And  of  success  in  life,"  said  Vincent.  "  Perse 
vere  and  change  your  fly." 

"  She  persevered,"  said  Clayborne. 

"  And,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  she  found,  poor  thing, 
that  it  was  a  wicked  shark,  and  not  a  well-mannered 
salmon." 


16  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"But  after?  What  came  next?"  said  my  wife, 
smiling. 

"Nothing,  I  am  sure,"  returned  Anne  Vincent. 
"  What  should  or  could  come,  my  dear  child  ? " 

"  A  dozen  six-button  gloves  to  one  that  it  did  not 
end  there." 

"  I  take  it,  my  dear !  " 

"  Good !  "  said  my  wife.  "  Mr.  Clayborne  wrote  her 
a  nice  long  letter." 

"  I  did  j  but  who  told  you  ?  " 

"  No  one !  "  cried  Mrs.  North,  triumphantly. 

We  laughed,  while  Mrs.  Vincent  stared  in  the  fire, 
reflective. 

"  Six  buttons,"  said  Mrs.  North. 

"  She  was  a  poor  little  cripple,"  added  Clayborne, 
"  who  was  trying  to  get  some  education  at  home  out 
of  books,  and  with  a  faint,  far-away  interest  in  the 
cousin  who  wrote  books.  Now  I  send  no  smart 
answers." 

"  Was  it  costly,  that  autograph  ? "  asked  St.  Clair. 

Clayborne  made  no  reply. 

Mrs.  Vincent  shook  her  head  at  the  poet  by  way  of 
warning. 

I  happened  to  know  that  Clayborne's  care  of  this 
girl  began  four  years  before  he  moved  to  the  country. 
He  gave  her  the  chance  of  education  which  the  girl 
craved,  and  now  this  was  the  slightly  deformed  young 
woman  who  had  but  lately  come  to  live  in  the  village, 
and  who  came  daily  to  receive  her  cousin's  dictations 
and  to  type-write  his  letters. 

When  Clayborne  failed  to  reply,  St.  Clair  knew 
himself  to  have  been  reproved,  and  lapsed  into 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  17 

silence,  dismayed  like  a  child.  My  wife,  who  had  a 
motherly  regard  for  her  abdicated  lovers,  smiled,  and 
murmured  under  shelter  of  her  fan :  "  Did  not  you 
know?  The  girl  is  the  new  secretary,  Miss  May- 
wood,  the  youug  woman  we  saw  in  the  hall  last 
week." 

"  How  stupid  of  me  !  "  said  St.  Clair,  aside.  "  But 
why  should  not  one  speak  of  another  man's  bounty  ? 
If  hidden,  it  loses  its  value  as  an  example.  Your 
Bible  texts  are  in  conflict.  l  Let  your  light  so  shine 
before  men/  and  then  you  are  given  the  text  about 
the  desirable  ignorance  of  the  hand." 

"  Let  us  ask  Mr.  Clayborne,"  said  my  wife.  "  He 
knows  the  Bible  as  few  know  it." 

The  general  talk  had  lapsed.  The  hospitality  of 
silence  was  one  of  the  charms  of  this  house,  and  in 
deed,  as  I  have  said,  had  come  to  be  an  accepted 
freedom  whenever  we  met.  It  was  broken  by  my 
wife's  question.  The  scholar  looked  up  with  the  rare 
smile  he  always  had  ready  for  those  whom  he  loved. 

"  Charity,  dear  lady,  is  but  one  of  the  illuminating 
virtues  which  make  life  to  shine.  A  man's  light  is 
not  charity.  His  light  is  the  radiating  influence  of  a 
good  and  true  life.  The  text  should  not  be  read  as 
inviting  to  liberality  when  giving  in  church.  It  means 
nothing  there  in  the  way  of  example.  No  one  knows 
what  you  give,  or  why,  which  is  of  far  more  moment." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  better  interpretation,"  said  my 
wife. 

"  It  is,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  the  other  text  as  to 
that  ignorant  left  hand  which  has  always  puzzled 


18  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

I  saw  my  wife's  face  light  up  as  it  does  when 
thought  surprises  her  with  some  of  its  strange  re- 
vealments.  She  said  with  a  certain  quiet  timidity, 
as  if  in  doubt :  "  Is  there  not,  Anne,  an  intimation  in 
the  text  that  giving  should  be,  as  it  were,  a  part  of 
the  unrecording  automatism  of  a  well-trained  life, 
without  self-ful  sense  of  good  done— something  as 
simple  and  natural  as  breathing  ? " 

"But  surely,  Alice,"  said  Anne  Vincent,  "you  do 
not  mean  that  we  should  give  without  thought  ?  No, 
pardon  me,  dear!  I  was  stupid.  I  see  what  you 
mean,  but  you  were  hardly  clear." 

Clayborne  looked  over  at  my  wife  with  his  large, 
slow,  kindly  smile. 

"  It  seems  to  me  clear  enough,"  he  said. 

"No,"  said  my  wife;  "I  never  can  express  what  I 
mean.  Sometimes  I  think  I  am  clever,  but  when  I 
talk  it  out  I  conclude  that  I  am  a  fool.  Tell  me  what 
I  mean." 

"  I  think,"  said  the  scholar,  "  you  mean  that  the 
single  act  of  giving  should  be  merely  the  easy  out 
come  of  a  habit  formed,  like  a  rut  in  a  road,  by  end 
less  repetitions.  It  does  not  involve  absence  of  con 
siderate  thought.  It  is,  it  should  be,  thus  of  all  our 
virtues.  It  should  be  as  with  our  garments,  which 
we  used  to  call  habits.  Any  abrupt  change  in  the 
habits  of  the  mind  should  bring  to  us  an  awakening 
sense  of  awkwardness,  of  something  wrong,  and  so 
stay  us  with  self-question." 

"I  knew  he  would  say  it  better  than  I,"  said  my 
wife. 

"Ah!"  murmured  St.  Glair;  "habits  of  the  body; 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  19 

garments  of  the  mind  to  be  acquired.  I  have  none, 
thank  goodness !  Now  I  know  why  I  hate  to  wear 
a  hat  or  clothes.  But  go  on.  It  was  tremendously 
like  a  sermon,  except  that  it  was  brief,  and  that  the 
privilege  to  interrupt  was  permissible." 

"  But  should  not  be,"  said  Vincent. 

"Oh,  I  suppose  not,"  returned  St.  Clair.  "When 
I  snap  at  Clayborne  or  growl  at  his  dignified  attitude 
of  big  dog,  I  am,  as  you  all  appear  to  think,  like  the 
little  dog  Beaver.  In  fact,  Clayborne  does  sometimes 
talk  astonishing  nonsense." 

Clayborne  smiled.  "We  don't  know  the  dog 
Beaver." 

"Well,  then,  here  is  wisdom.  Once  on  a  time, 
when  the  Rebs  were  marching  on  Gettysburg,  they 
passed  a  house  close  to  the  road.  On  the  porch  stood 
a  child  and  her  mother.  A  tiny  terrier  safe  behind 
the  paling-fence  barked  furiously  at  the  soldiers. 
Beaver  was  the  name  of  that  loyal  dog.  Beaver  re 
fused  to  behave  himself.  Then  at  last  came  General 

A and  rode  on  the  sidewalk.  At  this  liberty  the 

small  dog  ran  to  and  fro,  and  barked  yet  more  an^ 
grily.  Upon  this  the  general  heard  the  child  cry  out 
in  alarm,  '  Oh,  mama,  mama !  Don't  let  Beav  bite 
that  army  ! '  Well,  I  am  Beaver." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  I  j  "  you  have  not  lived  in  vain." 

"  What  a  delightful  story  !  "  said  Anne  Vincent. 

"It  has  large  applications,"  said  her  husband. 
"May  I  use  it,  Victor?" 

"I  never  patent  my  stories,"  said  St.  Clair.  "  Wil) 
the  army  please  to  move  on  ? " 

"Oh,"  said  Clayborne,  "I  was  only  about  to  ask 


20  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

when  the  offertory  first  came  into  use.  How  was  the 
bag  filled— the  bag  which  Judas  carried?  Is  not 
that  a  Christian  custom  ?  I  never  saw  it  in  a  mosque. 
Do  the  Jews  use  it  f " 

No  one  could  answer  his  questions,  but  Vincent 
said :  "  It  seems  a  natural  and  easy  way  of  collecting 
money  for  church  uses.  I  never  liked  it.  That  may 
be  my  Quaker  ancestry.  I  believe  Friends  have  not 
this  custom." 

"I  am  with  you  as  to  this/7  said  my  wife.  "I, 
too,  dislike  it.  We  are  nearly  all  descendants  of 
Quakers,  and  no  one  of  us  can  answer  this  simple 
question." 

Said  our  host :  "  I  will  sometime  invite  my  neighbor 
Randolph  to  join  us.  Then  you  can  ask  him." 

"  Do,"  said  I. 

"  When,"  said  Clayborne,  "  St.  Clair  dislocated  the 
talk,  I  was  reflecting  where  I  had  seen  some  Eastern 
sayings  about  charity.  Generally  some  one  has  said 
in  the  past  whatever  we  say  to-day,  and  often  has 
said  it  better." 

"  That  seems  acceptably  commonplace,"  laughed  St. 
Clair,  "and  how  easily  that  disposes  of  all  need  to 
talk !  I  do  not  see  why  we  should  not  dispense  with 
original  conversation  and  talk  in  quotations." 

"Our  friend  Anne  Lyndsay  might,  or  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Vincent.  "  The  rest  of  us,  except  Mr.  Clay- 
borne,  would  be  silent  listeners." 

I  ventured  to  say  that  there  would  be  long  pauses. 

"If  Clayborne,"  said  Vincent,  who  at  times  was 
literal,  "  means  that  some  things  have  been  so  said  in 
the  past  that  we  cannot  put  them  better,  it  is  hardly 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  21 

true.  As  man  changes  and  society  alters,  so  does  the 
need  to  restate  emotion  or  repeat  the  great  truths  in 
some  novel  form.  Otherwise  what  need  to  preach 
sermons  or  write  books  ? " 

"  There  is  no  need/7  said  St.  Clair. 

"  No  one  needs  sermons  more  than  a  certain  friend 
of  ours,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  and  he  does  also  write 
books." 

"  But  as  to  sermons,  three  words  answer  for  me. 
When  my  dear  Mrs.  Vincent  says,  l  Don't  do  it/  it  is 
enough,  as  you  know.  I  repent  and  stop.  But  here 
comes  Clayborne." 

The  scholar  had  been  wandering  about  among  his 
books,  and  now  came  back  with  two  little  volumes 
beautifully  bound,  and  a  manuscript  in  Arabic  rolled 
on  an  ivory  rod.  "  I  wanted/'  he  said,  "  to  find  some 
Eastern  sayings  about  charity."  As  he  spoke  he  un 
rolled  the  script.  "  These  are  the  poems  of  El-Din- 
Attar,  the  friend  of  Omar  Khayyam;  the  book  is 
rare."  He  began  to  translate.  "He  says:  i Listen 
with  the  two  ears  given  thee  of  Allah.  Cover  thy 
face  when  thou  givest  alms,  that  he  who  receives  may 
know  only  Allah  beneath  thy  cloak.  He  who  giveth 
moon- white  silver  at  night  is  repaid  with  the  gold  of 
the  sun  at  morning.'  'These/  says  El-Din-Attar, 
'  are  not  my  wisdom,  but  were  made  by  the  sufi  poet 
El-Amin.'  The  added  comment  is  not  bad,  and  is 
apropos— I  should  say  relevant:  'That  which  hath 
been  already  said  is  like  thy  dinner  of  dates  of  yester 
day.  Shall  it  withhold  thee  from  eating  thy  dates 
to-morrow  ? '  Then  he  goes  on,  as  he  thinks,  to  im 
prove  on  El-Amin :  '  The  fool  thinks  that  he  gives. 


22  DE.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

He  is  only  honestly  returning  to  Allah  that  which  he 
gave.  Give  without  words.' 

A  gift  is  as  the  young  foal  of  the  camel; 

It  should  carry  nothing  on  its  back. 

A  gift  is  as  an  egg;  what  gain  to  decorate  the  shell? 

Here  is  a  bit .  of  verse,  with  apologies  to  St.  Glair. 
This  is  from  my  little  collection  of  Arabic,  or  rather 
of  Oriental,  morsels  of  wisdom — what  Attar  calls, 
with  gentle  vanity,  l  crumbs  from  the  loaf  of  my  wis 
dom.7  All  poets  are  vain." 

"  Ah,  to  own  the  entire  loaf !  "  said  St.  Clair.  "  As 
to  the  vanity  of  poets— the  great  poets  are  never 
vain.  But  we  will  talk  of  that  some  day.  Now  for 
your  poem." 

"  Oh,  it  is  only  four  lines,  and,  after  all,  some  things 
do  seem  to  drop  readily  into  verse. 

When  thou  givest  to  the  poor 

Be  thou  ever  sure, 

As  thy  share, 

To  ask  large  usury  of  prayer." 

"I  do  not  like  that,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "Why 
ask  any  return  ? " 

"  Well,  here  is  an  odd  one.     This  is  Malayan : 

It  is  not  always  the  receiver  who  receives ; 
It  is  not  always  the  giver  who  gives." 

"  Oh,  I  like  that  much  better !  "  cried  my  wife. 

"  They  are  really  very  interesting,"  said  St.  Clair. 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  23 

"  The  phrase  as  to  asking  the  usury  of  prayer  ver 
bally  reminds  me  of  the  sonnet  of  a  friend  of  mine. 
I  think  it  is  on  a  lost  philopena.  I  am  not  sure  that 
I  can  repeat  it.  Yes ;  this  is  it : 

More  blest  is  he  who  gives  than  who  receives, 
For  he  that  gives  doth  always  something  get : 
Angelic  usurers  that  interest  set : 
And  what  we  give  is  like  the  cloak  of  leaves 

Which  to  the  beggared  earth  the  great  trees  fling, 
Thoughtless  of  gain  in  chilly  autumn  days : 
The  mystic  husbandly  of  nature's  ways 
Shall  fetch  it  back  in  greenery  of  the  spring. 

One  tender  gift  there  is,  my  little  maid, 
That  doth  the  giver  and  receiver  bless, 
And  shall  with  obligation  none  distress : 

Coin  of  the  heart  in  God's  just  balance  weighed; 
Therefore,  sweet  spendthrift,  still  be  prodigal, 
And  freely  squander  what  thou  hast  from  all." 

"  How  much  is  gained  by  rhythm  and  rhyme ! " 
said  my  wife.  "  I  like  your  sonnet." 

"  What  else  have  you  ?  "  said  St.  Clair. 

"  Here  is  one  for  Mrs.  Vincent.  Again  it  is  El- 
Din-Attar.  But  the  translation  is  not  mine : 

Give  as  the  peach-trees  give  in  the  oasis  of  Sevol-Nedrag 
—the  grace  of  the  blossom,  the  sweet  of  the  fruit,  shade  for 
the  sun-hurt,  rest  for  the  wanderer,  that  he  may  hear  the 
wind  in  the  branches  over  him  calling  to  prayer,  and  thus 
refreshed,  may  return  to  his  home  and  plant  trees  by  the 
wells  and  the  wayside.  For  a  good  deed  hath  length  of  life ; 
and  who  shall  number  the  years  of  remembrance?  " 


24  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  I  like  that  best,"  said  my  wife  j  "  how  to  give 
with  grace,  how  to  flavor  your  gift." 

"  You  have  small  need  to  learn  that,  dear  lady," 
said  our  host.  It  was  true.  Clayborne  grew  gentler 
as  he  became  older ;  but  direct  praise  he  rarely  gave. 
My  wife  flushed  and  was  silent.  Clayborne  was 
vaguely  conscious  of  a  kindly  indiscretion.  He  went 
on  hastily :  "  These  bits  of  Eastern  wisdom  lose  much 
in  the  translation." 

"I  myself  like,"  said  my  wife,  "the  thought  that 
an  act  of  goodness  may  live  on  and  on.  You  recall, 

Owen,  what  J F said  to  you  when  he  was 

dying?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Tell  it,  please.     Here  surely  you  may." 

"  You  will  greatly  oblige  me,  Owen,  if  you  will  tell 
it,"  said  Vincent.  "You  once  did  begin  to  tell  me, 
but  something  interrupted  you."  He  asked  it  with 
what  I  might  call  the  tender  formality  of  manner  I 
knew  and  liked. 

I  hesitated  a  moment.  My  wife  had  revived  a  sad 
memory.  Then  I  said :  "  If  you  wish  it.  My  friend 
was  dying  of  cancer,  of  that  one  of  its  forms  which 
is  the  most  terrible  to  a  man  of  refinement,  like  my 
friend,  who  desired  with  every  instinct  of  a  gentle 
man  to  be  agreeable  to  all  about  him.  He  wrote  me : 

'  Come  to  "W and  see  me.  Come  soon.  I  want 

to  say  good-by.  I  am  being  tortured  to  death.  I 
am  disgusting  to  myself  and  to  all  who  approach 
me.  It  is  agony  and  insult.  I  should  not  have  said 
insult,  but  I  leave  it  as  said.  Come,  and  soon;  I 
have  something  to  say/  I  went.  He  had  set  nine 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  25 

in  the  morning  as  the  hour  for  my  call.  He  ex 
plained  this  early  appointment,  saying :  '  I  am  given 
morphia.  It  merely  dulls  the  pain.  I  wanted  to  see 
you  when  my  head  is  clear,  and  for  this  reason  I 
have  taken  none  since  last  night.  I  am  in  great  pain. 
But  I  wanted  to  say  this  to  you.  When  my  dear 
friend,  your  sister,  was  dying,  after  years  of  patiently 
borne  pain,  and  I  spoke  of  her  cheerfulness,  she  said 
to  me  :  "  When  I  recall  the  calm  endurance  shown  in 
my  brother's  illness  (he  died  at  nineteen,  during  ser 
vice  in  the  Civil  War),  I  am  somehow  made  strong, 

and  can  go  on."  I  myself/  said  F ,  'was  then 

well  and  sturdy.  Now,— and  I  must  talk  briefly,— I 
want  only  to  say  to  you  that  the  remembrance  of  her 
example  has  been  to  me  in  turn  a  constant  help.  I 
knew  that  you  would  like  to  hear  that  her  long  years 
of  trial  were  not  without  some  good  results.7  Then 
he  said, '  That  is  all.  Please  to  go  now !  Good-by ! ' " 

For  a  little  while  no  one  spoke.  Then  St.  Glair 
said :  "  Horrible  !  I  should  end  it  quickly.  I  hate 
pain.  I  am  never  ill.  I  wonder  if  pain  exists  outside 
of  this  world.  I  like  that  man  of  whom  Owen  told 
us,  who  could  not  feel  pain.  Do  not  talk  of  it  any 
more.  Let  me  tell  you  an  Eastern  story  about  charity. 
If  you  talk  about  death  I  shall  sleep  none  to-night ; 
I  shall  go  away.  I  heard  my  tale  in  the  market  at 
Tangier  from  a  man  who  taught  me  a  little  of  the 
Berber  language." 

"Is  this  honest,  Victor?"  said  our  host. 

"  All  poets  are." 

"  Lord !  they  have  contributed  more  to  the  annals 
of  unpunished  villainy  than—" 


26  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Well,  then,  I  won't  tell  it,"  broke  in  St.  Clair,  an 
noyed.  "  Personally  I  like  to  be  wicked,  and  I  do 
not  mind  being  put  in  a  corner  for  it  j  but  just  now  I 
am  not  bad.  I  hate. to  be  whipped  for  the  sins  of  my 
betters." 

"  What  stuff !  "  said  Clayborne.     "  Go  on  !  " 

"  Don't  mind  him,  Victor,"  said  Vincent. 

"  Please,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

St.  Clair  laughed  and  threw  back  his  head,  which  was 
like  that  of  a  young  Greek.  "  I  shall  tell  Mrs.Vincent." 

"  And  we  will  not  listen,"  said  I. 

He  rose  and  stood  by  the  fire,  at  one  side,  was 
silent  a  moment,  and  then  said: 

"  The  Caliph  Haroun-al-Raschid  went  out  one  night 
basely  clad.  Because  he  was  a  sufi  poet  he  knew  how 
to  become  for  an  hour  whatsoever  he  would.  This 
time  he  made  himself  hungry  and  friendless  and  in 
sore  need,  for  now  there  dwelt  in  him  the  mind  of  a 
beggar.  He  bent  low  and  asked  alms  at  the  gate  of 
the  mosque.  An  old  man  gave  him  a  paraf.  i  I  thank 
thee,'  said  Haroun,  t  although  it  is  the  least  of  all 
coins.  But  tell  me  thy  name,  that  when  the  muezzin 
calls  at  morning  I  may  pray  for  thee  to  the  Father  of 
gifts.7  '  Charity  hath  no  name/  said  he  who  gave. 
Thus  speaking,  he  went  his  way.  Others  refused  to 
give,  and  some  mocked  him.  At  last  came  a  young 
man.  '  Help  me ;  I  am  poor ! '  said  Haroun.  1 1,  too, 
have  nothing/  returned  the  man.  '  Even  my  verses 
are  poor.  I  am  a  sufi  poet,  a  maker  of  songs/  '  Give 
me,  then,  at  least  a  song/  said  the  caliph ;  '  that  is  little.' 
'  Here  is  one/  replied  the  poet.  At  this  the  caliph  for 
got  and  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height.  Seeing 


DR.  NORTH  AND   HIS  FRIENDS  27 

him  thus  in  the  moonlight,  the  young  man  knew 
him,  and  said  in" haste,  'Here  is  a  better  song/  and 
giving  him  a  scroll,  took  back  that  he  had  given. 
Then  said  Haroun  :  1 1  am  the  caliph.  Come  to  me  at 
morning  without  fail,  and  if  the  verse  be  good  it  shall 
profit  thee,  and  if  bad  thou  shalt  suffer.' " 

"  By  George  !  "  said  Clayborne,  "  a  fine  way  to  deal 
with  poets." 

"  Or  historians,"  said  I.     "  Go  on,  Victor." 

"When  the  man  came  at  morning  and  the  caliph 
unrolled  the  scroll,  it  was  a  song  of  his  own.  i  Young 
man/  he  said,  l  you  are  too  wise  for  a  poet/  and  made 
him  governor  of  Bagdad." 

"That  is  either  reasonably  well  imitated,"  said 
Clayborne,  "or  a  real  Oriental  story.  I  never  can 
tell.  Perhaps  you  may  like  to  know,  Victor,  that  the 
reigning  royal  house  of  Othman  has  given  to  Turkey 
some  of  its  best  poets.  But  where  did^ou  get  that 
tale  ?  At  Tangier,  I  think  you  said." 

"  Yes ;  did  you  really  think  I  made  it  ?  " 

"  By  all  the  Muses,  I  do  not  know,"  said  Clayborne. 
"  Write  it  for  me,  then  I  can  tell ;  when  it  is  on  paper 
I  can  tell." 

"  Can  you,  indeed  ?  You  shall  have  it,"  replied  St. 
Clair,  smiling. 

"  Oh,  the  bad  boy !  n  murmured  Vincent  to  me. 

Before  I  could  answer,  my  wife  said :  "  I  have  had 
what  my  girl  calls  <  a  dood  time.'  Come,  Owen,  or  we 
shall  be  late  for  the  train.  We  are  also  too  late  for— 
what  was  it  Mr.  Clayborne  promised  last  week  at  our 
house?  Oh,  yes.  You  said  there  was  no  text  on 
which  a  sermon  could  not  be  written." 


28  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Yes,  I  recall  it,"  said  Clayborne.  "  It  was  to  be 
ready  to-night.  St.  Clair  and  I  were  each  to  write  a 
sermon  on  it." 

"  The  text  we  gave  you,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  was, 
I  remember,  l  Jesus  wrote  on  the  ground.' " 

"  Good,  I  shall  try  5  I  lacked  for  time." 

"  I  myself  think  it  is  too  easy,"  said  St.  Clair. 

"  Indeed !  Do  make  haste,  Owen  j  we  are  late," 
and  so  with  this  we  went  away. 


|WO  weeks  or  more  went  by  before  we 
dined  again  at  Holmwood.  Meanwhile 
Vincent  was  in  Washington,  convincing 
the  Supreme  Court.  St.  Clair  had  dis 
appeared,  with  no  more  apparent  sense 
of  need  to  explain  why  than  a  ghost  at  the  end  of  a 
brief  earthly  call.  At  times  he  forgot  engagements, 
neglected  any  one  who  might  be  sitting  for  bust  or 
medallion,  and  simply  went  away.  No  one  knew 
where  he  had  been  until  his  return,  unless  he  wrote 
to  Mrs.  Vincent  or  to  my  wife.  Once  he  asked  me 
to  go  with  him,  and  what  he  did  and  what  I  saw  I 
may  find  time  to  state.  When  on  this  present  occa 
sion  he  thus  flitted  he  went  up  to  the  head  waters  of 
the  Delaware  River,  bought  a  canoe,  and  paddled 
himself  down  the  great  stream  to  Lewes.  There  on 
the  sea-shore  he  dried  his  canoe  and  set  it  afire.  I 
asked  him  why.  He  said  Mrs.  North  knew,  but  I  did 
not.  How  could  I,  indeed?  My  good  wife  declared 
she  was,  in  fact,  no  wiser  than  I.  St.  Clair  insists  to 
this  day  that  she  knows  it,  and  it  may  be  that  she 
does.  It  seems  to  me  stupid  to  add  needlessly  to  the 
mysteries  of  life ;  but  this  he  liked  to  do. 

When,  being  curious,  I  asked  Mrs.  Vincent,  she 
said,  "  You  men  are  queer  people,  and  yet  I  read  you 
his  letter." 

29 


30  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

Now,  this  was  his  letter.     It  did  not  assist  me. 

"  DEAR  MADAM  SUMMER  [he  said  this  was  her  true  name, 
because  of  her  naturalness  of  bounty] :  I  am  on  the  edge  of 
a  wood.  A  cat-bird,  astray  from  his  home,  is  playing  at 
imitating  the  wood-robins.  They  listen  surprised  and  in 
sulted.  Not  far  below  is  a  rapid.  I  am  writing  on  a  mol- 
dered  log.  The  rapid  above  is  talking  to  the  rapid  below, 
because  it  is  just  after  sundown,  when  the  waters  acquire 
speech.  All  day  long  they  babble,  but  far  into  the  night 
they  sing  or  talk  with  the  tongues  of  many  lands.  Who  has 
not  heard  or  cannot  hear  them  had  better  stay  among  men, 
for  the  great  forests  have  never  given  him  their  freedom. 
There  are  three  frogs  in  the  marsh ;  one  has  a  drum,  one  a 
fife,  and  one  a  bassoon.  The  air  is  full  of  leafy  funerals. 
The  waters  are  carrying  the  red  and  yellow  leaves  in  fleets 
to  the  sea.  Here  alone  is  death  beautiful.  I  float  all  day 
long  on  this  generous  river.  I  have  only  to  keep  the  prow 
straight;  the  strong-willed  water  has  the  flow  of  decisive 
fate.  I  go  past  the  homes  of  men,  past  mills  and  pastures, 
where  the  herds,  with  heads  all  one  way,  graze  with  patient 
eyes.  Here  and  there  are  primeval  woods,  where  I  camp 
under  the  stars  or  wander.  Do  you  think  any  church  is  as 
solemn  as  a  slowly  darkening  wood?  Where  else  have  you 
the  dreamy  sense  of  something  about  to  happen?  What  is 
it  seems  to  follow  you?  A  gentle  terror  makes  you  glad  to 
get  out  to  the  verge  of  the  river.  All  woods  are  haunted. 
You  are  tempted  by  mysterious  longings  to  return  again. 
You  know,  dear  lady,  how  the  need  to  be  alone  seizes  me 
at  times.  I  wonder  how  long  Adam  was  alone.  That  was 
a  noble  loneliness,  the  finest  the  world  ever  gave.  Eve  was 
a  doubtful  gift.  To  be  alone  restores  my  sense  of  being 
only  one  person.  I  sometimes  think  that  by  chance  or  de 
sign  several  souls  get  stowed  away  in  this  single  lodging- 
house  we  call  the  body.  Who  the  landlord  is  at  times  it 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  31 

were  hard  to  tell.  Here  I  own  myself.  Not  to  want  to  be 
at  times  alone  is  a  signal  of  commonplace  identity.  Alone 
we  are  nearest  to  God.  You  think  I  am  a  trifler  as  to  reli 
gion.  You  are  wrong.  None  of  you  is  as  deeply  religious 
as  I  am.  You  are  wrong.  Ah,  I  am  so  good  when  I  am 
in  the  woods !  Yes,  at  my  best.  VICTOR. 

"  P.  S.  I  forgot.  Years  have  I  spent  in  the  woods,  and 
to-day  saw  a  thing  new  to  me.  To  see  it  makes  me  happy. 
I  must  tell  some  one. 

"When  leaves  drop  in  the  autumn  they  fall  face  down, 
as  if  to  salute  the  great  mother.  It  is  true  of  nearly  all 
leaves  when  the  air  is  still.  But  why  is  it  so?  I  can  see  you 
smile,  well  pleased.  I  leave  you  to  guess.  I  sat  to-day  a 
long  while  watching  the  leaves  fall.  I  think  I  know  now  why 
they  do  not  come  to  earth  in  the  position  they  hold  while  on 
the  tree.  V.  ST.  C." 

When  Mrs.  Vincent  had  read  thus  far  I  told  her 
that  it  was  a  large  dose  of  St.  Glair's  enigmatic,  half- 
meant  nonsense,  and  that  on  his  return  from  these 
woodland  conversions  to  goodness  he  was  sure  to 
plunge  into  outrageous  ways,  and  to  need  all  of  us 
to  get  him  back  to  a  reasonably  decorous  life.  Mrs. 
Vincent,  who  liked  no  one  but  herself  to  scold  him, 
said  he  had  the  fire  of  genius,  and  that  much  was  to 
be  forgiven  an  unrestrained  nature ;  to  which  I  re 
turned  that  there  was  no  insurance  against  the  fire 
of  genius,  and  that  other  folks  were  apt  to  get  a  trifle 
singed.  Upon  this  we  quarreled  mildly,  and  I  was 
coolly  received  for  a  week  or  two,  and  had  to  send 
flowers  and  generally  make  myself  gracious.  I  was 
generous  enough  not  to  tell  her  that  St.  Clair  bought, 
on  his  return,  a  charming  picture  by  Rousseau,  for 


32  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

which  he  could  as  easily  pay  as  fly.  When  Clay- 
borne  heard  of  this  extravagance  he  went  to  the 
dealer  and  paid  for  it.  As  to  St.  Clair,  he  said  that 
was  exactly  what  he  himself  would  have  done  under 
like  circumstances,  and  that  it  was  a  good  thing,  be 
cause  he  could  sell  the  picture  if  ever— and  that  would 
never  be— he  should  run  into  debt.  We  missed  it  a 
year  later.  It  was  bought,  I  believe,  by  Xerxes 
Crofter,  my  railroad  reiver,  whom  I  had  set  on  foot 
again  to  the  misery  of  many. 

It  was  in  mid-October,  as  I  recall  it,  that  we  were 
once  more  at  Holmwood. 

Clayborne  was  a  man  of  singularly  equable  charac 
ter.  He  was  capable  of  conducting  a  savage  contro 
versy  with  exasperating  calmness,  and  with  merciless 
use  of  the  weapons  of  incisive  English.  Like  some 
other  men  of  large  nature,  he  showed,  as  he  grew 
older,  a  tendency  toward  greater  forbearance,  but 
never  quite  lost  his  sense  of  pleasure  in  contest.  St. 
Clair  said  he  was  born  old  and  grew  younger  as 
years  went  on.  To  our  surprise,  he  proved  to  have 
the  capacity  to  find  novel  sources  of  enjoyment,  and 
to  exhibit  an  almost  childlike  satisfaction  in  certain 
newly  found  pursuits.  At  present  he  had  taken  with 
fresh  happiness  to  gardening,  and  when  we  met  was 
in  what  Vincent  called  a  state  of  eruptive  satisfac 
tion  as  to  the  success  of  his  wild  garden.  St.  Clair 
declared  him  to  be  under  the  impression  that  he  had 
discovered  flowers  and  invented  trees.  To  me  he 
seemed  like  a  man  who,  having  been  mind-blind  to 
nature,  had  found  his  eyesight ;  but  genius  is  always 
competent  to  present  us  with  surprises.  Certain  of 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  33 

these  changes  of  occupative  tastes  may  have  been 
fostered  by  the  fact  that  of  late  his  eyes  had  some 
what  failed  him,  and  declined  to  be  tasked  all  day 
and  half  the  night.  When  he  became  aware  of  this 
he  bought  Holmwood,  and  for  two  years  or  more 
amused  himself  by  secretly  adorning  his  purchase. 
It  became  a  constantly  sought  resting-place  during 
his  long  afternoon  rides,  and  before  we  saw  it  he  had 
dealt  with  it  in  a  way  which  filled  us  all  with  aston 
ishment. 

As  we  walked  through  the  hall  he  said  to  my  wife : 
"You  saw  your  garden,  a  place  to  plunder  as  you 
like.  Now  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  to  show  you  my 
own  garden.  Come." 

We  wandered  here  and  there  as  he  led  us  through 
a  belt  of  pines,  and  at  last  came  out  on  an  open  space 
of  perhaps  an  acre.  Around  it  was  a  low  wall  of 
gray  stone.  This  must  have  been  long  in  place,  for 
it  was  covered  with  Japanese  ivy  and  our  own  Vir 
ginia  creeper,  both  aglow  with  varied  tints  of  autum 
nal  red.  Straight  walks  of  dull-red  brick  led  across 
this  space  of  flowers,  those  still  in  bloom  being  chiefly 
great  masses  of  chrysanthemum,  aster,  and  scarlet 
sage.  At  each  corner  of  the  walks  were  antique 
crumbled  capitals  of  Greek  columns.  At  the  far 
side,  in  a  curve  of  the  wall,  he  had  set  a  sixteenth- 
century  well-head  with  a  Latin  inscription,  and  on 
top  was  placed  a  shallow  basin  of  red  antique  marble, 
as  a  water-supply  for  the  birds. 

"  The  well  is  from  Siena,"  he  said]  "  the  marbles  I 
bought  in  Rome  last  year.  I  have  an  antique  altar  j 
it  is  not  yet  here." 


34  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

Very  quaint  it  was,  and  beautiful,  as  the  women 
said,  with  cries  of  surprised  delight.  St.  Clair  was 
silent.  Clayborne  looked  at  him  expectant. 

"  Do  you  like  it  ? "  he  said. 

When  St.  Clair  was  feeling  even  a  great  joy  in 
tensely  his  eyes  were  apt  to  fill,  and  he  himself  to 
feel,  as  now,  a  vague  sense  of  dismay  at  the  girl-like 
unrestraint  of  his  emotion. 

"Who  did  it,  Clayborne ?"  he  said.  "Not  you. 
It  is  beautiful,  fitting,  in  perfect  taste." 

Our  host  smiled.     "  Why  not  I  ? " 

"  Because— because  there  was  a  woman's  hand  in  it." 

"  By  Zeus !     Who  told  you  that  ? " 

"  No  one ;  I  told  myself.  You  like  it,  but  a  woman 
helped  you.  There  is  that  gray  amphora  lying  on 
the  wall  with  the  red  vines  over  it.  No ;  that  was 
not  your  thought,  nor  the  water  for  the  birds." 

Clayborne  looked  amused  and  a  trifle  annoyed. 
"  Yes,"  he  replied ;  "  my  cousin,  Sibyl  Maywood,  my 
secretary ;  the  most  of  it  was  her  idea.  I  meant  to 
put  these  capitals  around  the  grass-plot  in  front  of 
the  house." 

"  Did  you,  indeed  ? "  said  St.  Clair,  smiling. 

"  Then,"  said  Vincent,  "  she  is  the  young  woman  we 
saw  leaving  the  house  when  last  we  were  here  to  dine  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Clayborne. 

"  I  saw  her,"  said  St.  Clair,  "  before  you  returned 
home.  She  must  be  a  person  of  singular  good  taste. 
She  is  lame  and  not  quite  erect,  Mrs.  Vincent,  but, 

:Fore  God,  she  hath  a  lovely  face. 
God  in  his  mercy  send  her  grace." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  35 

"  Poor  child  !  "  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  She  is  slightly,  very  slightly  deformed,  and  halts/' 
said  Clayborne.  He  seemed  to  me,  who  knew  him 
well,  to  be  annoyed  at  these  comments. 

"  How  pitiful !  It  were  better,"  said  Anne  Vin 
cent,  "  that  she  were  also  deformed  of  face." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  St.  Clair  ;  "  no  !  " 

"Why  not?  "said  I. 

"  I  do  not  know.  Why  do  you  ask  ?  She  has  hair. 
Did  you  notice  her  hair?  And  a  face — 

11  Naturally,"  said  Vincent,  "  the  girl  has  hair  and 
a  face." 

"  What  a  man  !  "  said  St.  Clair. 

"  I  shall  ask  you  all,"  said  Clayborne,  pausing,  "  to 
take  an  interest  in  my  cousin  •  she  is  sure  to  please 
you.  She  has  been  living  in  the  village  for  two 
months,  and  has  become  to  me  far  more  than  a  very 
clever  secretary." 

"May  I  ask  where  she  came  from?"  said  Anne 
Vincent. 

"Her  people,"  he  replied,  "were  of  the  earliest 
settlers  at  Hingham.  They  were  important  in  war 
and  peace  until  two  generations  ago,  when,  after  loss 
of  means,  the  family  fell  away  into  incapables.  They 
sought  a  cheap  home  in  a  remote  New  England  vil 
lage,  and  there  lost  touch  of  the  class  in  which  they 
had  lived  for  two  hundred  years." 

"  That  is  not  a  rare  case  in  our  country,"  said  Vin 
cent  ;  "  for  a  family  to  keep  its  social  place,  product 
of  some  kind  is  needed.  A  race  must  make  and  keep 
money,  or  from  time  to  time  win  some  form  of  dis 
tinction.  If  it  desire  permanency,  have  the  preserva- 


36  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

live  instinct,  it  can  only  retain  its  hold  upon  the 
social  group  it  has  reached  by  more  or  less  continu 
ous  recognition  of  social  duties.  At  least  this  is  true 
of  our  cities." 

"Is  it  worth  while/'  I  said,  " artificially  to  preserve 
station  for  a  breed,  as  is  done  in  England,  or  to  let  it 
depend  for  continued  place  and  influence  on  its  own 
power  to  keep  what  it  has  won  ?  There  is  no  doubt 
at  all  that  real  talent,  capacity,  is  valuably  adver 
tised  and  gets  its  chance  earlier  if,  as  in  England,  it 
carry  the  name— the  label— of  a  race  already  well 
known.  Is  it  worth  while  to  insure  the  chance  of 
fresh  product  ?  " 

"Perhaps,"  said  Clayborne;  "and  since  all  real 
success  is  now  more  and  more  distinctly  competi 
tive,  the  label  helps  the  strong  more  than  it  does  the 
feeble.  It  does  secure  for  literature  an  early  audi 
ence.  It  does  not  now  make  that  audience  lenient, 
as  it  once  did." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  may  not  all  this  measurably  apply 
also  to  us?  If  a  young  man  has  available  qualities, 
is  he  not  advantaged  in  their  use  owing  to  his  being 
one  of  a  well-known  family  which  has  been  able  to 
hold  its  own  ? " 

"  Or  get  other  folks'  own,"  laughed  St.  Clair. 

"  Stop  him,"  said  Clayborne ;  "  he  has  no  conversa 
tional  reverence.  This  is  not  foot-ball,  Victor !  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  St.  Clair,  gaily. 

"  You  are  surety  right,  Owen,  for  several  reasons, 
most  of  them  obvious.  If  the  father  be  a  man  of 
achievement,  the  son  is  apt,  unfairly,  to  be  predictively 
judged  in  youth  by  what  in  the  parent  is  the  resultant 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  37 

of  years.  But  then,  also,  because  of  family  distinc 
tion,  he  does  more  easily  get  a  hearing,  and  that  is  so 
hard  to  get.  Moreover,  certain  social  qualifications, 
which  are  fostered  by  generations  of  training,  make 
for  success  in  every  line  of  life." 

"Good  manners  for  instance,  and  tact,"  said  my 
wife. 

"  Oh,  tact,"  said  I,  "  is  a  gift  of  nature,  unteachable. 
A  duke  may  miss  it,  a  mechanic  have  it." 

"  One  sees  it  in  some  children,  and  very  early  in 
life,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  I  think  it  presupposes  re 
finement,  automatic  tendency  to  notice  the  little  things 
of  life,  desire  to  please.  I  think  some  dogs  have  it  j 
yes,  I  really  think  so." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  Clayborne.  "  I  am  sure  that  they 
are  observant,  gentle,  and  wish  to  please— as  much  as 
any  one  of  us."  Our  friend  who  spoke  was  as  entirely 
lacking  in  the  quality  we  discussed  as  a  kindly  man 
could  be.  We  smiled  as  he  added,  "  Some  men  have 
tact  which  seems  to  be  available  only  in  certain  rela 
tions  of  life." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Vincent  j  "  one  might  talk  long 
about  it.  As  an  example,  I  recall  the  case  of  General 

B .  He  had  the  art  to  charm  and  convince  a  great 

political  assembly,  and  was  quick  to  discern  hostility, 
and  to  answer  questions  with  competence,  courtesy, 
and  grace.  When,  after  the  meeting,  he  was  intro 
duced  to  his  political  supporters,  he  quickly  succeeded 
in  displeasing  most  of  them,  and  was  pretty  certain 
to  say  the  wrong  thing  to  every  one." 

"  That  seems  hardly  credible,"  said  my  wife. 

"  And  yet,"  returned  Clayborne,  "  it  is  true." 


38  BE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

As  we  wandered  to  and  fro  the  talk  also  wandered, 

until  Vincent  brought  it  back  to  the  question  of  tact. 

"We  were  not  very  brilliant  in  our  comments/'  he 

said,  "  and  I  let  slip  the  chance  of  asking  if  the  word 

'  tact '  be,  in  our  sense,  an  old  one." 

"  No,"  replied  Clayborne  j  "  it  is  modern,  and  only 
of  late  is  to  be  found  in  the  dictionaries.  "Who 
coined  it  I  do  not  know,  nor  who  gave  it  the  meaning 
now  accepted.  In  Massinger  a  man  says : 

They  [women]  being  created 
To  be  both  tractable  and  tactable. 

Here  is  an  adjective  which  has  not  our  modern  mean 
ing.  It  may  have  been  meant  to  describe  women  as 
tacticians.  The  context  does  not  clear  up  the  mean 
ing.  It  would  be  a  good  adjective,  '  tactable.'  As  to 
the  noun,  I  must  look  further." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Vincent;  "and  as  I  have  been 
fortunate,  I  repeat  the  process  and  return  to  the 
other  matter  we  talked  over.  I  had  meant  to  say, 
as  regards  what  we  see  in  England,  that  their  way 
appeals  to  me  personally,  sentimentally.  I  like  their 
idea  of  anchoring  a  family.  I  like  these  ancient 
homesteads,  with  their  abiding  traditions,  their  cher 
ished  graves,  their  emotional  hold  on  the  young  who 
go  out  to  win  their  way.  When  I  come  to  reason  on 
it  coldly—" 

"  Oh,  don't,"  cried  St.  Clair ;  "  I  like  the  English 
plan ;  I  should  have  made  a  very  admirable  duke." 

"  The  entail,  would  have  to  be  strict,"  said  Clay- 
borne.  "  As  a  question  in  hereditation  it  is  interest- 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  39 

ing  to  observe  how  many  American  families  have 
kept  for  over  two  hundred  years  the  same  social 
place,  how  many  do  this  with  remarkable  distinction, 
and  how  many  without  such  illustration." 

"Of  course/'  said  I;  "  we  see  and  know  that. 
Abroad  it  is  less  well  understood.  The  permanence 
of  races,  of  families,  in  republican  countries,  where  it 
is  assumed  that  the  leveling  influences  are  effective, 
is  really  an  interesting  illustration  of  the  despotic 
power  of  the  inborn  characteristics  of  a  breed." 

"  Tell  me,  Mr.  Clayborne,"  said  my  wife,  "  do  large 
or  small  families  produce  the  people  of  ability  ? " 

"  Shall  we  exclude  genius?"  he  asked. 

"Why?" 

"  Because  genius  is  a  glad  freak  of  nature  in  a  good 
humor.  It  has  in  a  sense  neither  grandfather  nor 
grandchild.  Leave  it  out,  and  I  answer  that  great 
talent,  ability,  or  capacity  is  more  apt  to  be  found  in 
children  of  large  families." 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  said  Vincent.  "  There  are  some 
possible  fallacies,  numerical  fallacies.  But  given  a 
hundred  thousand  people,  select  the  successful.  Will 
these  have  come  out  of  large  family  groups  or  small 
ones  ? " 

"  That  states  the  problem  fairly.  I  still  think  that 
I  am  correct  j  and  there  are  good  reasons  why  the  chil 
dren  of  a  numerous  family  should  excel  an  equal  num 
ber  of  the  children  of  small  families.  The  inter-disci 
pline  of  large  sets  of  children  is  valuable.  It  is  fine 
training  for  a  larger  world.  The  advantages  are  ob 
vious.  But  all  children  should  be  brought  up  in  the 
country.  One  sees  the  value  of  this  in  the  success  of 


40  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

country-bred  lads,  who  bring  to  a  city  the  sturdy  vigor 
of  a  youth  hardened  by  farm  life.  The  three  B's,  as 
the  English  say,  are  needed  to  make  a  lord  chancellor, 
or  for  any  lifelong  contest." 

"The  three  B's"  said  my  wife— "what  are  they?" 

I  laughed.  "  I  am  like  a  certain  American  journal," 
replied  Clayborne.  "  It  once  modestly  declined  to 
use  these  three  B's  as  the  title  of  a  paper  on  boys,  or 
to  put  them  in  fuller  form.  I  am  equally  modest." 

"And  provoking,"  said  Alice.  "I  do  believe  you 
are  laughing  at  me." 

It  was  rare  that  Clayborne  desired  to  leave  any 
question  until  it  was  completely  dealt  with.  His  in 
clination  to  lecture  was  like  that  of  the  people  in  Sir 
Arthur  Helps's  books,  who  are  supposed  to  be  merely 
talking,  but  who  really  converse  in  essays.  We  had 
a  tacit  agreement  to  prevent  these  interminable  dis 
cussions.  Now,  to  my  surprise,  Clayborne  said :  "  This 
is  indoor  talk.  Let  us  leave  it,  and  take  it  up  again 
some  night  by  the  fireside."  We  had  been  strolling 
about  or  pausing  as  we  chatted. 

St.  Clair  cast  a  mischievous  glance  at  Mrs.  Vin 
cent,  and  said:  "Dr.  Johnson  remarked  that  irrev 
erence  for  continuity  in  conversation  is  apt  to  be 
associated  with  undeveloped  intellectual  capacity  to 
connect  the  past  with  the  future." 

"  What,  what !  "  said  Clayborne. 

"  How  is  it  about  conversational  foot-ball  ? "  laughed 
the  poet. 

"A  talk  must  end  sometime,"  said  Clayborne. 
"No;  on  reflection  I  am  wrong— a  talk  never  ends. 
It  is  only  adjourned.  Come,  you  bad  boy !  " 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  41 

"  Indeed,  you  are  right,  Clayborne.  But  I  want  to 
discuss  this  charming  novelty.  Your  garden  is  most 
beautiful.  It  has  distinction.  Everything  in  it 
seems  fitting.  But  here  at  this  middle  space,  where 
you  have  this  fine  Corinthian  capital,  there  is  want 
ing—well,  some  larger  object.  I  shall  make  for  you 
Keats's  vase— the  whole  ode  in  marble.  I  have  long 
wished  to  do  it." 

"  Make  it,"  said  Clayborne.  "  Probably  I  shall  like 
it  better  than  that  absurd  poem.  If  Sibyl  likes  it  I 
will  put  it  here  on  this  capital.  Will  it  be  very 
costly,  Victor  ? "  and  he  laughed. 

"  Yes,  you  old  sinner.  If  I  make  it  you  are  not  to 
scold  me  for  a  year  and  a  day." 

"  It  will  be  costly,"  I  remarked. 

"  Ah,  here  is  the  servant  to  call  us  to  dinner.  I 
have  persuaded  Miss  Maywood  to  dine  with  us,"  said 
our  host.  "  She  is  very  shy.  She  is,  as  I  told  you, 
—or  did  I  ?— the  last  of  a  long  line  of  Puritan  saints, 
with  a  fair  dilution  of  sinners.  You  will,  I  know, 
remember  that  this  young  woman  has  suddenly  to 
appear  among  people  who  are  unlike  those  she  has 
seen  or  known." 

He  was  evidently  a  trifle  uneasy  as  to  his  experi 
ment.  As  we  walked  toward  the  house  my  wife  and 
Mrs.  Vincent  fell  behind  with  me. 

"Is  not  that  like  him? "said  the  elder  woman. 
"As  if— dear  old  friend !— surely  excess  of  tact  is 
not  his  failing," 

My  wife  had  and  has  certain  fading  beliefs  as  to 
classes,  and  the  impropriety  of  bringing  together 
people  who  do  not  fit  comfortably  into  places  to 


42  DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

which  they  are  not  accustomed.  She  said  to  Mrs. 
Vincent :  "  Our  old  friend  may  well  be  in  doubt.  It 
is  pure  folly,  Anne.  Of  course  the  girl  won't  like  it, 
and  it  will  quite  spoil  our  dinners." 

"It  will  hardly  be  as  bad  as  that.  Let  us  make 
her  like  it,  Alice.  Now,  you  must  not  freeze  her, 
poor  thing ! " 

"As  if—17  said  Mrs.  North.  "You  are  simply 
horrid,  Anne  Vincent." 

I  moved  on,  wisely  silent,  quite  sure  as  to  what 
each  woman  would  do. 

As  we  passed  through  the  hall  the  new  guest  met 
us.  "  Miss  May  wood,"  said  Clayborne,  formally  pre 
senting  her  in  turn  to  each  of  us. 

The  secretary  was  in  a  white  gown.  She  was  of 
middle  stature  and  slightly  deformed,  one  shoulder 
being  higher  than  the  other.  As  she  walked  her 
halting  gait  was  plainly  to  be  seen.  Her  hands  had 
what  St.  Clair  described  as  a  look  of  competence,  and 
all  their  movements  were  singularly  graceful.  When 
seated,  as  I  observed  later,  the  results  of  long-extinct 
disease  were  no  longer  visible.  Above  this  crooked 
frame  rose  a  head  of  the  utmost  beauty.  It  was 
lighted  up  by  dark-gray  eyes,  tender  with  lifelong 
reproach  of  the  fate  which  had  dealt  with  her  beauty 
in  so  malign  a  fashion.  Mrs.  Vincent  said  later  that 
the  girl  had  too  much  hair.  It  was  deep  black,  but 
of  such  extreme  fineness  as  in  the  black-haired  is  rare. 
The  mass  of  it  seemed  at  first  sight  so  great  as  to 
overweight  the  head,  but  this  was  carried  well,  and 
no  feature  lacked  beauty. 

Clayborne,  who  at  this  time  had  uncertain  views 


DR.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  43 

as  to  Miss  Maywood's  future,  had  spoken  of  her  to 
me  with  freedom.  I  had,  however,  said  no  word  of 
this  to  my  wife,  and  preferred  to  give  no  chance  of 
prejudging  a  person  who  must,  I  felt,  be  in  some 
ways  peculiar.  I  was  quite  unprepared  by  what  my 
friend  had  told  me  for  this  refined  face,  with  eyes 
made  brilliant  by  the  amount  of  light  their  unusual 
size  reflected.  This  young  woman  may  have  been 
somewhat  embarrassed,  but  she  was  among  people  of 
tact,  who  had  every  desire  to  set  at  ease  a  person  who, 
as  some  of  them  thought,  had  been  needlessly  put  in 
a  false  position. 

My  wife  professed,  as  I  have  said,  certain  social 
theories  which  she  defended  with  zeal,  but  on  which 
she  never  acted.  I  was  not  surprised,  therefore,  to 
see  that  she  was  most  gracious  to  Miss  Maywood. 
As  we  went  in  to  dinner  the  two  elder  women  said 
all  manner  of  appreciative  things  about  the  garden, 
our  host  having  gaily  presented  the  secretary  as  his 
landscape-gardener.  We  were  still  chatting  as  we 
sat  down.  Miss  Maywood  sat  between  me  and  Mrs. 
Vincent ;  St.  Clair  was  opposite.  I  am  very  sensitive 
to  voices,  and  when  Miss  Maywood  spoke  I  knew  at 
once  that  I  was  hearing  one  of  those  speaking  instru 
ments  which  are  more  rare  than  any  voice  of  song, 
whatever  its  compass  or  its  sympathetic  qualities. 
While  she  was  talking  to  Mrs.  Vincent,  or  being 
talked  to,  I  sat  reflecting  upon  the  irony  of  fate  which 
should  have  forever  denied  to  this  voice  the  privilege 
of  saying  to  a  man,  "  Yes,  I  love  you."  Our  host  was 
talking  of  Greek  cemeteries  to  my  wife.  Vincent,  on 
his  left,  was  silent,  a  quiet  listener.  Mrs.  Vincent 


44  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

was  sedulously  engaged  in  making  talk  which  might 
interest  a  young  person  situated  as  was  Miss  May- 
wood.  At  first  she  had  scant  replies,  but  soon  the 
"  tender  art  of  head  and  heart "  had  its  usual  tri 
umph.  As  Miss  May  wood,  encouraged,  began  to 
make  little  ventures,  I  was  so  caught  by  the  charm  of 
her  voice  that  I  became  aware,  as  often  chanced  there 
after,  that  I  was  only  half  conscious  of  what  thought 
this  changeful  music  carried.  I  have  known  only 
two  other  women  who  possessed  this  gift.  One  had 
it  by  right  of  inheritance.  One  was  an  Irish  lady,  a 
nursing  Sister  of  Charity. 

St.  Clair,  who  sat  opposite,  was  tranquilly  studying 
the  very  remarkable  face  of  the  young  woman  beside 
me.  Once  or  twice  she  seemed  aware  of  the  too 
steady  attention  of  which  she  was  the  object.  It  did 
not  appear  to  me  that  the  indecorous  steadfastness 
of  St.  Glair's  gaze  actually  embarrassed  her.  As  she 
looked  and  turned  away  she  was  apparently  only 
curious  and  gently  amused. 

I  began  by  and  by  to  attend  more  closely  to  the 
chat  of  my  neighbors,  and  was  not  long  in  under 
standing  that  Miss  Maywood  was  to  become  one  of 
those  sudden  attractions  in  which  Mrs.  Vincent  de 
lighted.  These  were  apt  to  be  what  St.  Clair  called 
"friendly  flirtations,"  and  to  end  with  more  or  less 
abruptness.  If  the  person  concerned  proved  perma 
nently  attractive,  these  early  and  somewhat  deceptive 
attentions  might  result  in  a  friendship  the  value  of 
which  I  had  long  learned  to  know.  But  this  relation 
involved  for  Anne  Vincent's  friends  such  charity  as 
knew  how  to  condone  the  faults  of  a  noble  but  master- 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  45 

fully  impulsive  nature.  In  her  efforts  to  set  right  the 
world  she  sometimes  hurt  when  she  would  have  helped, 
and  was  sure  in  the  end  to  suffer  far  more  than  the 
wounded  friend.  It  was  at  times  as  hard  to  be  her 
friend  as  not  to  be.  I  was  thinking  of  her  peculiar 
ities  when,  as  I  said,  the  substance  of  the  talk  beside 
me  began  to  capture  my  attention.  The  shy  cripple 
with  the  beautiful  face  was  speaking  at  last  with  ani 
mated  freedom.  Mrs.  Vincent  related  the  offer  of  St. 
Clair  as  to  the  vase. 

"I  read  it  last  week/'  said  Miss  May  wood— "  I 
mean  the  poem  j  I  never  read  it  before." 

" Indeed?  Then  you  are  to  be  envied.  There 
ought  to  be  a  way  of  blotting  out  of  memory  all 
remembrance  of  a  great  poem  or  novel,  so  that  many 
times  one  could  have  the  joy  a  first  reading  gives.  I 
envy  you—" 

"  Ah,  no,  no,"  cried  Miss  Maywood  j  "  I  never  want 
to  let  anything  go,  never !  " 

"And  have  you  what  I  so  lack— a  memory?" 

"  Yes ;  I  can  often  repeat  a  poem  after  once  hearing 
it.  I  got  my  real  education  late,  and  that  is  why  I 
am  so  ignorant,  and  there  was,  there  is,  so  much  to 
learn.  I  try  to  be  careful  how  I  talk  about  books, 
because  the  great  ones  I  am  only  just  learning  to 
know.  I  am  like  a  prince  coming  into  his  kingdom 
out  of  exile.  Books  seem  to  me  like  people." 

"  I  do  not  think,  my  dear,  that  I  know  people  who 
are  like  books,  except  that  some  people  are  unread 
able,  and  some  appear  to  have  no  table  of  contents." 

Miss  Maywood  laughed.  "  Oh,  but  I  meant  that 
books  are  like  people,  not  people  like  books." 


46  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Is  not  that  rather  confusing  ? "  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"I  mean  that  books,  the  great  books,  are  to  me 
distinct  and  personal.  Perhaps  I  am  not  clear." 

"  Yes  j  now  I  think  I  see." 

"  Mr.  Clayborne  says  it  is  because  I  did  not  know 
the  great  books  when  I  was  too  young.  Children,  he 
said,  do  sometimes  come  into  the  inheritance  of  high 
thought  before  they  know  how  to  value  or  understand 
it.  Then,  he  says,  familiarity  breeds  indifference.  Is 
he  not  interesting  ? " 

"  Always,  usually,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"Do  you  think,  Mrs.  Vincent,  that  Shakespeare's 
children  understood  how  great  he  was  ?  I  don't  mean 
that  j  I  mean— oh,  would  it  have  been  terrible,  or  de 
lightful,  to  have  lived  in  the  house  with  him?" 

"Good  gracious,  child!"  said  Mrs.  Vincent;  "he 
was  not  Macbeth  or  Mercutio." 

"  Oh,  no ;  he  was  everybody.  Mr.  Clayborne  says 
that  sooner  or  later  every  great  writer  puts  himself, 
his  real  self,  on  paper,  and  who  could  he  have  been 
among  the  seven  hundred  characters?  I  really 
counted  them." 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Vincent's  face  was  worth 
seeing  for  one  who  knew  her.  I  said :  "  I  have  been 
a  happy  listener,  Miss  Maywood.  Usually  the  man 
who  writes  much,  either  drama  or  novel,  does  some 
where  unconsciously  portray  himself,  but  it  is  apt  to 
be  in  fragments.  I  have,  as  others  have  had,  a  feeling 
that  there  is  in  Hamlet  more  of  the  person  Shakespeare 
than  in  any  other  of  his  many  characters." 

"  I  never  have  read  t  Hamlet/ "  said  Miss  May- 
wood.  "  Mr.  Clayborne  says  books  should  be  labeled 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  47 

to  be  read  at  this  age  or  that.  He  says  at  thirty  I 
may  read  l  Hamlet.' " 

" I  hardly  agree  with  him,"  said  I ;  "I  am  for  let 
ting  young  people  loose  in  a  library.  The  reader  is 
born,  not  made  j  you  cannot  help  the  others."  Mrs. 
Vincent  shook  her  head  in  dissent.  "  I  am  sure,"  I 
added,  "that  Mr.  Clayborne  never  advised  you  to 
read  Keats.  He  has  no  real  taste  for  verse.  He 
likes  dramas  of  action,  and  no  others.  He  has,  as 
St.  Clair  says  in  his  absurd  way,  every  ology  except 
imaginology,  and  that  it  is  because  of  his  want  of 
imagination  that  he  fails  in  the  drawing  of  great 
historic  characters." 

Miss  Maywood  flushed  slightly,  hesitated,  and 
then,  to  my  amusement,  said,  "  And  yet  does  he  not 
understand  all  of  you  ?  " 

"  Not  fully,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  smiling,  "  and 
never  will;  enough  to  love  us,  that  suffices.  What 
does  he  give  you  as  a  literary  diet  ? " 

"  He  advises  me  to  learn  Greek,  and  to  read  Euripi 
des.  He  says  Keats's  poem  about  the  vase  is  pure 
nonsense." 

"Then,"  said  St.  Clair,  overhearing  us,  "you  read 
it  first  only  a  week  ago  ? " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  of  a  sudden  shy ;  "  only  a  week 
ago." 

"  And  where  did  you  read  it  ?  " 

This  was  so  like  the  speaker  that  Mrs.  Vincent  and 
I  smiled  at  each  other  unspoken  comment  of  amuse 
ment. 

"In  the  woods  one  day,"  she  answered,  with  no 
sign  of  the  amazement  I  felt  at  his  question. 


48  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Did  you  cry  ? n  he  said,  with  strange  insight,  and 
with  his  amazing  unconcealment  of  thought. 

"I  did,"  she  said  quietly,  "  a  little." 

"  What  nonsense,  Victor !  "  I  said.  "  Why  should 
it  make  any  one  cry?" 

Not  heeding  me,  he  went  on :  "  What  made  you 
cry?" 

"  I  know,"  said  my  wife,  overhearing  this  singular 
talk,  and  realizing  its  unfitness. 

To  my  surprise,  Miss  Maywood  did  not  accept  her 
amiable  interruption,  but  replied:  "Why  did  I  cry? 
Oh,  there  are  two  lines— 

"I  know  them,"  cried  St.  Clair : 

"  That  leaves  a  heart  high  sorrowful  and  cloyed, 
A  burning  forehead,  and  a  parching  tongue." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  without  any  appearance  of  sur 
prise  j  "  you  are  right.  But  I  do  not  know  why  they 
disturbed  me." 

"  Oh,"  he  cried,  "  they  do  not  belong  in  that  poem. 
They  strike  a  false  note.  I  have  inked  them  out  in 
my  Keats.  But  the  rest !  Ah,  the  rest  is  golden, 
precious,  as  nearly  perfect  as  verse  can  be,  except— 

"  Please  not  to  criticize,"  she  pleaded. 

"I  will  not.  You  are  right."  He  flushed  with 
strong  emotion  as  he  spoke.  "  Such  things  as  that 
are  like  lilies,  not  good  to  eat,  cast  before  a  mean 
world  of  swine.  What  shall  it  do  with  them  ?  I  am 
sorry  he  wrote  it." 

"No,  no,"  she  said,  forgetful  of  her  shyness.  "It 
gives  a  new  joy  to  those  who  may  have  few."  At 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  49 

this  she,  too,  flushed  confession,  aware  of  having 
yielded  to  a  reflection  on  her  own  limitations. 

These  were  two  children  of  nature.  He  was  really 
a  noble  thing  to  see,  as  he  paused  thinking.  He  had 
walked  out  from  town,  in  snow-white  flannel,  a  bit  of 
red  tie  around  his  neck,  and  above  it  the  delicately 
featured  face  with  its  crown  of  curls.  He  turned 
abruptly  and  began  to  speak  to  Mrs.  North. 

"Mr.  Clayborne  told  me,"  said  Miss  May  wood, 
"  that  Mr.  St.  Clair  was  a  bundle  of  surprises.  He 
can  surprise  one,  can  he  not,  Dr.  North?" 

"  Indeed,  he  is  rich  in  that  capacity,"  I  returned. 
"  You  have  had  as  yet  but  a  mild  experience.  I  am 
sure  that  Clayborne  described  us  all.  He  told  me 
he  had  prepared  you  for  the  extraordinary  people 
you  were  to  meet." 

"  He  did— he  did,"  she  said,  laughing.  "  Oh,  he 
did ! " 

She  was  queerly  simple,  and  had  as  yet  no  defen 
sive  conversational  stratagems  at  command. 

"  And  what  did  he  say  of  us  ? "  asked  I. 

"  Come  !     That  is  hardly  fair,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

" Quite  true,"  said  I.  "I  could  easily  complete  his 
account  of  St.  Clair.  He  probably  said  he  was  so 
good  to-day  that  you  wondered  that  he  could  ever  be 
bad,  and  so  bad  to-morrow  that  you  wondered  how 
he  ever  could  be  good." 

She  looked  comically  conscious,  but  said  only, 
"  He  did  say  he  was  a  poet— a  kind  of  poet,  he 
said." 

"  That,  at  least,  is  true,"  remarked  Mrs.  Vincent ; 
"  he  is  a  poet." 


60  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Are  poets  ever  ugly  ? "  said  Miss  Maywood. 

"  Certainly  he  is  not/7  said  I. 

"  No,"  she  said,  with  honest  simplicity  j  "  he  is 
beautiful." 

Now,  when  this  artless  child  said  "  beautiful,"  it 
acquired  a  fresh  value,  like  worn  gold  reissued  from 
a  royal  mint.  Even  Mrs.  Vincent  was  a  trifle  discon 
certed.  She  hastened  to  say,  "  Oh,  he  is  well  enough  j 
men  are  never  beautiful,  my  dear." 

"  Then  I  may  say  you  are,"  said  this  wonderful 
voice. 

"  Indeed  !  "  laughed  the  elder  woman  j  "  I  have  been 
told  that  in  my  day,  but  usually  by  men  who  soon  or 
late  expected  a  pleasant  return." 

"  But  I  don't  expect  anything." 

"  Then  you  shall  have  a  little  love,  child."  She 
touched  with  caressing  gentleness  the  hand  next  to 
her. 

At  this  moment  Clayborne  asked  Mrs.  Vincent  a 
question,  and  I  had  leisure  to  reflect  upon  this  intel 
lectual  ingenue.  Would  she  keep  her  bewildering 
simplicity?  How  would  the  hard  world  deal  with 
her  ?  Then  there  was  more  chat,  and  merry,  around 
the  table,  for,  luckily,  this  day  we  had  champagne. 
Miss  Maywood  listened,  smiling  at  times,  but  natu 
rally  enough  saying  almost  nothing  after  the  talk 
became  general.  Had  Clayborne  been  wise  in  giving 
her  to  eat  of  the  fruit  of  knowledge,  and  in  trans 
planting  this  wild  rose  with  its  broken  stalk  ? 

We  soon  went  into  the  library,  and  after  wander 
ing  in  groups,  fell  into  the  usual  circle,  standing 
about  the  fire. 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  51 

"I  have  been  thinking  over  your  story  of  the 
caliph,"  said  I,  aside,  to  St.  Clair.  "  I  am  sure  you 
made  it  up  yourself  j  but  if  it  left  an  Orientalist  like 
Clayborne  in  doubt,  it  was  good  enough." 

"  I  had  a  better  in  my  mind  yesterday,  but  when  I 
came  to  look  for  it  to-day  it  was  gone.  Some  one, 
something,  had  opened  the  cage,  and  the  bird  had 
flown." 

"  Will  it  ever  return  ? " 

"  Probably  not ;  no  use  to  call  it.  Leave  the  cage 
door  open  and  go  away.  I  have  lost  many  thoughts 
in  this  way.  You  think  you  have  them  safe  in  the 
bank  of  memory,  and  to-morrow  your  draft  comes 
back  protested.  And  yet  a  thought  is  a  thing  that, 
once  it  is  alive,  does  not  die.  Where  is  it?  Not 
gone,  because  to-morrow  or  a  month  hence  I  may  find 
it,  or  it  me." 

"Associative  relation  does,  of  course,  help  one," 
said  I,  "  but  it  is  where  it  fails  that  the  puzzle  comes 
in,  and  tells  us  how  little  we  know  of  the  mechanics 
of  the  mind." 

"  What !  what !  "  exclaimed  Clayborne,  turning 
toward  us.  "  Is  St.  Clair  talking  psychology  ?  " 

"Yes  j  we  were  restating  the  commonplace  that  the 
laws  of  association  usually  fail  to  explain  the  sudden 
revival  of  long-lost  ideas,  and  that  not  to  search,  as 
we  all  know,  is  the  sure  way  to  find." 

"  Like  Bo-Peep's  sheep,"  said  my  wife,  overhearing 
us.  "  Let  them  alone  and  they  '11  come  home;  and 
bring  their  tales  behind  them." 

"  My  compliments,  Madam  North,"  cried  St.  Clair. 
"As  an  illustrative  quotation  that  is  faultless." 


52  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  What  ? "  cried  Clayborne.  "  I  do  not  see  it. 
What  amuses  you  all  ?  " 

"  T-a-i-1-s,"  spelled  my  wife ;  "  t-a-1-e-s,  please." 

"  What  nonsense  !  "  said  the  scholar. 

When  our  laughter  ceased,  I  said  :  "I  was  about  to 
tell  St.  Clair  a  fact  in  regard  to  memorial  association 
of  ideas,  and  more  than  mere  ideas.  Dr.  M —  -  told 
me  that  this  chanced  to  him.  He  has  studied  the 
venom  of  serpents,  as  you  know,  but  for  years,  many 
years,  had  given  it  no  serious  thought.  Neither  had 
he  nor  any  one  known  or  conceived  of  this  poison  as 
other  than  a  single  noxious  form  of  albumin.  One 
day,  in  ascending  the  steps  of  a  house  in  which  he 
had  at  one  time  resided,  he  found  himself,  by  habit, 
with  a  latch-key  in  his  hand.  He  was  clearly  in  an 
absent  mood.  As  he  recognized  the  fact,  he  happened 
to  glance  at  the  door-mat.  It  was  made  of  rope.  One 
side  was  loose  and  lay  in  a  coil,  like  the  familiar  coil 
of  a  serpent.  Instantly  there  was  present  in  his  con 
sciousness  the  belief  that  the  venom  of  serpents  is 
not  one,  but  two  or  more  distinct  poisons.  He  stood 
surprised,  seeing  at  once  how  much  this  might  ex 
plain.  He  was  so  secure  of  this  conclusion  that  he 
set  to  work,  aided  by  a  friend,  and  after  five  months 
of  laboratory  research  succeeded  in  confirming  his 
thought— I  mean,  in  discovering  that  all  serpent 
venom  contains  two  or  more  poisons,  a  fact  which 
proved  the  key  to  many  problems  in  animal  toxicology." 

"  And  is  that,"  said  Vincent,  "  really  and  simply  all 
of  the  known  fact  ?  I  mean  as  to  how  the  idea  was 
born  into  the  recognition  of  the  conscious  mind." 

"  Yes  j  all  that  he  or  any  one  knows." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  63 

"  Was  it  a  subconscious  mechanism,"  said  St.  Glair, 
"which  long  before  evolved  this  conclusion,  and 
waited  the  developmental  process  of  a  chance  associa 
tion  to  bring  it  into  the  region  of  consciousness  ? " 

Clayborne  glanced  at  the  poet  with  amused  curi 
osity.  The  reflection  was  unlike  St.  Clair ;  but  then, 
as  Vincent  once  said,  St.  Clair  was  continually  falling 
below  or  rising  above  what  was  expected  of  him. 

Our  host  said :  "  Did  you  ever  have  such  a  thing 
happen  to  you,  Victor  ? " 

"I?  No,  indeed,"  laughed  St.  Clair;  "not  I.  I  do 
not  think ;  I  dream.  I  lose,  and  never  find ;  you  find, 
and  never  lose.  Sometimes  I  am  a  month  in  hot 
chase  after  a  single  word  I  require,  or  a  strong  rhyme 
I  want,  and  know  is  to  be  found.  At  last  I  find  it, 
or  it  finds  me." 

As  we  talked,  the  girl  with  the  beautiful  face  lis 
tened  with  rapt  attention.  I  observed  that  her  eye 
lashes  were— it  is  hard  to  say— almost  too  long.  Their 
veil-like  overshadowing  of  the  eyes  gave  her  a  look 
of  dreamy  tenderness,  of  reverie,  which  passed  away 
when  she  addressed  any  one.  Then  her  face  became 
expressively  earnest,  and  despite  her  shyness,  she 
studied  with  untrained  intensity  of  gaze  the  person 
to  whom  she  was  speaking. 

"What  are  you  thinking  about,  Miss  Maywood?" 
said  my  wife.  "  These  great  folks  get  me  sadly  be 
fogged  at  times." 

"  My  thought  is  not  of  much  value.  I  was  thinking 
how  glad  Mr.  St.  Clair  must  be  when  he  finds  the 
very  word  he  wants  j  like—"  and  she  paused,  coloring 
slightly. 


54  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"Well,  Sibyl?"  said  Clayborne,  gently. 

"  Oh,  it  is  as  if  a  wild  bird  of  the  woods  were  to 
alight  on  his  window-sill  and  say:  'I  will  sing  for 
you.  This  is  the  song  you  want.'" 

"Yes 5  it  is  always  at  morning,"  said  St.  Clair. 

I  saw,  as  he  regarded  this  ethereal  face,  a  look  of 
pity,  plain  to  read  for  one  who  knew  him.  I  saw,  too, 
by  the  soft  lift  of  Anne  Vincent's  brow,  how  aston 
ished  she  was  at  this  childlike  revelation  of  imagina 
tive  thought.  Clayborne  did  not  like  it.  I  hardly 
know  why.  Any  exercise  of  imagination  in  every 
day  talk  displeased  him. 

"  If,"  he  said,  "  St.  Clair  had  been  decently  edu 
cated  he  would  not  need  the  birds  to  fetch  his  vocab 
ulary." 

"  Oh,  mauler  of  men  and  tangler  of  history !  "  cried 
the  poet.  "  You  would  write  better  if  you  felt  now 
and  then  the  pangs  of  word-hunger.  Ah,  if  one 
could  be  allowed  to  invent  words — " 

"  Only  childhood  has  that  privilege,"  said  my  wife. 

"Or  the  childhood  of  nations,"  said  Clayborne. 
"  Then,  too,  the  nation,  like  the  child,  loses  much  of 
its  invented  vocabulary.  I  wish  some  one  would  col 
lect  the  vocabulary  of  childhood.  My  mother,  up  to 
the  age  of  eight,  persistently  used  certain  words  which 
only  her  family  could  understand,  as  'dibbin'  for 
water,  '  walla  >  for  food  of  all  kinds,  'wunk'  for  a 
dog." 

"  How  very  strange  !  "  said  my  wife.  "  How  could 
they  have  originated  ?  " 

"Ah,  that  is  a  world- wide  puzzle  as  to  all  the 
tongues,"  said  our  host. 


DR    NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  55 

"  I  saw/7  said  I,  "  once,  in  my  clinical  service,  a 
child  who  spoke  volubly  a  language  entirely  her  own. 
It  was  understood  at  last,  or  acquired,  by  those  about 
her,  bat  no  word  of  it  could  I  comprehend." 

"  That  is  the  more  singular,"  said  Vincent,  "  when 
one  considers  how  imitative  is  childhood." 

"  Yes,"  said  St.  Glair  •  li  it  would  seem  to  be  more 
easy  to  imitate  than  to  invent.  Children  are  myste 
rious  folk  to  me,  and  yet  mysteriously  near  to  me, 
too." 

It  was  true.  All  children  were  instantly  on  easy 
terms  of  intimacy  with  this  receptive  nature. 

"Which  are  harder  to  understand,— I  mean  as  to 
character,"  said  Miss  May  wood, — "boys  or  girls'? 
When  I  taught  a  class  of  little  children  I  did  seem  to 
see  through  the  boys  more  clearly." 

"Oh,  girls,  girls,"  said  my  wife;  "even  for 
women." 

"Nobody  is  hard  to  understand,"  said  Clayborne. 
"  Let  us  sit  by  the  fire  ;  my  ride  has  made  me  tired. 
There  are  the  cigars." 

"  Girls  are  always  little  women,"  continued  my  wife ; 
"  but  boys  are  boys,  not  little  men." 

"  They  represent  more  fully  the  primitive  barba 
rian,"  said  St.  Clair. 

No  one  replied  to  this,  but  I  saw  on  Mrs.  Vin 
cent's  face  the  look  of  far-away  sadness  which  came 
now  and  then  when  children  were  the  subject  of  our 
talk.  She  was  childless,  as  I  have  elsewhere  said. 

For  a  while  we  sat  smoking,  the  chat  going  where 
chance  took  it.  At  last  St.  Clair  asked  :  "  Where  is 
that  sermon,  Clayborne?" 


56  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

The  big  bulk  of  the  scholar  stirred  uneasily  in  his 
chair.  "  I  repent,"  he  said. 

"  Pity  more  preachers  do  not,"  said  St.  Clair. 

Turning  to  the  scholar,  Mrs.  Vincent  said:  "You 
wrote  it.  I  see  it  in  your  face." 

"  But  St.  Clair  also  promised,"  returned  Clayborne. 

"  I  did,  but  I  pre-repented.  I  am  sure  Clayborne 
did  not  ;  he  always  keeps  his  word." 

"Queer  little  phrase  that— to  keep  your  word," 
said  Vincent.  "A  man  who  gives  his  word  keeps  it. 
What  was  the  text  we  gave  as  our  choice  for  its  diffi 
culty  of  use  ? " 

"  The  text,"  said  my  wife,  "  was,  *  Jesus  wrote  on 
the  ground.'  It  came  out  of  a  statement  of  Mr. 
Clayborne  that  a  sermon  could  be  made  on  any 
text." 

"  Please,  Mr.  Clayborne,"  said  Sibyl,  "  we  do  want 
to  hear." 

"  I  always  obey  Mrs.  Vincent,"  he  returned.  As  he 
spoke,  he  took  a  portfolio  from  the  table  beside  him. 
"  Well,  if  you  will  have  it,  here  it  is." 

I  saw  on  Miss  May  wood's  face  an  expression  of  re 
pressed  mirth,  for  which  I  did  not  see  cause. 

"  What  can  he  say  ?  "  murmured  my  wife  to  me. 

"  Listen.     Who  knows  ? " 

"  Before  I  begin,"  said  our  host,  "  let  me  say  a  word 
or  two.  Except  as  to  St.  Clair,  who  has  a  dozen 
creeds,  we  are  all,  I  fancy,  with  variations,  of  one 
mode  of  thought  as  to  our  faith.  At  least,  in  the 
noble  old  Church  of  England  we  find  sufficient  free 
dom,  and  this  alone  holds  me,  as  it  holds  many ;  for, 
as  the  years  go  by,  and  we  come  nearer  to  a  world 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  67 

which  has  no  creed,  the  freedom  to  use  unfettered 
thought  becomes  a  cherished  privilege.  My  dear 
Mrs.  Vincent  thinks  me  at  times  unorthodox.  So 
does  my  Quaker  friend  Randolph.  Indeed,  I  am 
variously  and  affectionately  criticized.  Let  us,  each 
and  all,  hope  that  we  are  right,  and  remember  that 
many  of  the  forms  of  religious  usage  are  the  children 
of  taste  and  sentiment,  or  tradition." 

"  I  cannot  stand  this,"  said  St.  Clair.  "  Here  am  I 
selected  as  the  one  wicked  boy.  I  wish  to  say  that 
no  man  can  live  by  the  words  of  Christ—none  of 
you." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Victor,  nothing  I  have  said  led  up 
to  this.  I  was  claiming  the  freedom  which  is  a  con 
sequence  of  the  mental  powers  God  gave.  I  was 
stating  the  fact,  or  meant  to,  that  for  the  mass  the 
form  is  far  more  than  the  creed.  Now  your  wander 
ing  wits  bring  us  on  to  ground  I  did  not  mean  to 
tread.  The  man  who  does  not  look  broadly  at  that 
great  biography  must  land  in  unhappy  incredulity,  or, 
if  narrow,  fasten  on  certain  texts,  or  commit  himself 
to  some  form  of  absurd  effort  to  live  by  the  bread 
alone  of  single  texts  which,  because  of  some  mental 
perversity  in  the  man,  become  for  him  dominant." 

"  There  is  no  need  to  illustrate  that,"  said  St.  Clair. 
"  Go  on." 

"  Give  me,  then,  a  moment  more,"  said  Clay  borne. 
"To  his  disciples,  the  primal  heroes  of  a  new  creed, 
the  parents  of  altruism,  to  these  he  gave  laws  of  con 
duct  clearly  impossible  for  the  world  of  men.  The 
application  of  the  commentary  of  common  sense  to 
Christ's  life  and  sayings  would  have  saved  much 


58  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

doubt.  My  Quaker  friend  will  say  that  Christ  forbade 
all  retaliation,  all  use  of  force,  and  hence  that  to  us 
war  should  be  impossible,  and  a  police  force  seem 
wicked ;  but  he  says  of  the  centurion,  the  man  whose 
trade  was  war,  that  he  has  seen  no  such  faith  as  his. 
He  does  not  use  his  faith  and  gratitude  to  turn  him 
from  the  business  of  war.  I  left  my  friend  Randolph 
to  digest  this  idea.  More  could  be  said  of  it  on  both 
sides.  And  now,  dear  congregation,  this  is  my  first 
sermon,  and  will  be  my  last.  I  assume  on  your  part 
intelligence,  which  is  what  the  clergy  do  not  always 
assume.  This  assumption  enables  me  to  be  brief, 
and  rarely  to  do  more  than  sow  seed  of  thought,  for 
it  is  to  be  remembered  that  Christ  preached  no  long 
sermons.  We  use  his  sermons  as  texts. 

"  What  Christ  wrote  on  the  dust  of  the  temple  pave 
ment  we  do  not  know.  Here  alone  we  learn  that  he 
could  write.  That  is  interesting.  In  our  study  of 
him,  we  are  confused  by  our  conception  of  the  man 
who,  being  God,  was  yet  man,  and  could  pray  for  re 
lease  from  a  cruel  fate.  Was  he  really  writing,  did 
he  write  words,  or  was  it  that  automatic  use  of  the 
hand  which  is  so  common  during  a  time  of  intense 
thought?" 

"  Pardon  me  !  "  said  Vincent ;  "  I  have  often  seen 
that.  I  put  a  grave  question  to  a  man  last  week. 
He  listened,  I  suppose ;  but  even  after  I  ceased  to 
speak,  he  went  on  drawing  triangles  on  my  blotting- 
pad,  and  at  last  answered  me  decisively." 

"  Is  the  congregation  allowed  the  privilege  of  inter 
polation  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Clayborne. 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  59 

"  It  would  contribute  interest  to  the  ordinary  ser 
mon/7  said  St.  Glair. 

"  I  vote  against  interruption,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 
"  Do  go  on  ! " 

"  I  cannot  answer  my  own  question/'  continued  our 
host ;  "  but  I  feel  for  myself  that  whatever  brings  the 
Christ  into  nearness  of  relation  with  the  ways  of  men 
is  for  me  valuable.  It  cannot  destroy  our  sense  of 
the  infinitely  larger  relation.  I  dare  say  there  are 
times  in  the  lives  of  the  best  of  us  when  the  sense  of 
nearness  to— shall  I  say  oneness  with?— the  great 
Maker  makes  it  easier  to  comprehend  the  lofty  duality 
of  Christ's  nature.  He  wrote,  or,  seeming  to  write, 
at  all  events  was  silent.  How  few  of  us  have  the 
courage  of  silence !  We  speak,  and  hearing  no  re 
ply,  speak  again.  This  silence  was  to  give  time  for 
thought  to  himself,  to  the  hostile  questioners,  to  the 
woman  in  her  anguish  of  guilt  and  fear.  If  he  wrote, 
what  was  it  ?  There  are  strange  traditions  as  to  these 
unread  words,  lost  as  the  wind  blew  about  the  dust 
on  the  temple  floor.  An  air  of  mystery  lies  about 
this  striking  scene,  the  mystery  of  a  half-revealed 
life.  But  no  life  is  wholly  revealed  to  us.  The  auto 
biography  least  of  all  gives  us  to  know  the  whole  of 
a  man.  No  man  is  ever  perfectly  revealed  to  those 
who  best  know  him.  No  man  knows  himself  wholly. 
The  higher  the  man,  the  less  can  he  be  entirely  ac 
quainted  with  that  self,  the  less  can  the  world  know 
him.  Genius  must  be  full  of  self-surprising  revela 
tions,  and  this  helps  our  comprehension  of  Christ,  for, 
as  he  thought,— and  to  the  Christ-man  came  the  full 
sense  of  the  majesty  of  the  thoughts  born  to  his  con- 


60  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

sciousness,— he  must  have  had  in  supreme  measure  the 
feeling  of  joyful  creativeness,  which  is  the  reward  of 
genius.  A  larger  mystery  envelops  this  white-robed 
figure,  but  it  is  a  mystery  shared  by  all  who  are  great 
—in  a  degree  by  all  who  live." 

"  By  George,  that  is  fine !  "  cried  St.  Clair. 

"  We  don't  swear  during  sermons,"  said  my  wife. 
"  Don't  interrupt,  please." 

"  But  what  is  mystery  ?  "  said  Vincent. 

"  Yes,"  murmured  Sibyl ;  "  I  was  about  to  ask  that. 
And  what  is  mysticism  ?  " 

"Let  us  leave  that,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "Please 
to  go  on ;  you  men  are  intolerable." 

"If,"  read  Clayborne,  "there  were  left  nothing  un- 
guessed,  unknown,  mysterious,  about  those  you  love 
or  like,  life  would  lose  the  charm  of  curiosity." 

"  Oh,  say  of  imagination,"  said  the  irrepressible  St. 
Clair. 

"  Well,  then,  of  imagination.  The  mystery  of  na 
ture  is  half  its  charm.  Complete  revealment  would 
take  out  of  the  life  of  human  relations  much  of  their 
joy,  and  even  of  their  power.  To  be  indifferent  to  the 
attractiveness  of  the  unrevealed  is  one  of  the  signs  of 
a  low  nature. 

"  Finally,  if  religion  were  not  founded  on  the  un 
knowable,  it  would  cease  to  live  in  the  hearts  of  men. 
As  of  religion,  as  of  Christ,  so  of  all  who  are  worthy  of 
love.  As  life  goes  on  we  secure  firmer  reasons  for  love, 
and  the  friendship  born  of  love.  We  seem  to  know  one 
another.  What  have  the  changing  fortunes  of  years 
left  you  two  to  learn  ?  Yes,  you  know  one  another. 
You  think  so.  Comes  then  into  your  lives  some  new 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  61 

• 

joy  or  some  incomprehensible  sorrow.  You  are 
startled  at  the  revelations  it  brings,  of  faith,  of  forti 
tude,  of  generous  unselfishness.  These  growths,  de 
veloped  out  of  the  long-sown  seeds  of  character,  may 
come  up  again  and  again  in  new  forms  and  with  ten 
der  surprises,  because  this  is  the  mystery  of  life,  that 
no  one  knows  another  wholly,  not  even  the  well-loved 
companion  of  a  lifetime. 

"And  what  of  the  to-morrow  of  death?  Will  all 
things  become  plain  to  us?  Shall  we  have  only  to 
ask  and  receive  answer  ?  Would  that  be  as  one  could 
wish  ?  Then  would  effort  cease  and  character  remain 
a  changeless  quantity.  The  Christian  attempt  to 
realize  the  mystery  of  the  world  to  come  has  resulted 
in  a  materialistic  degradation  of  the  obvious  meanings 
of  Him  who  placed  us  here,  and  who  will  surely  not 
leave  us  motiveless  hereafter.  Says  El-Din-Attar: 
<O  man,  thou  art  ever  a  stranger  in  the  tents  of 
life,  and  in  the  tents  of  the  hereafter  thou  shalt  be 
still  a  stranger.' " 

When  the  resonant  voice  ceased  there  was  silence 
for  a  time.  Mrs.  Vincent  said  at  last :  "  Who  wrote 
that  ?  Not  you,  dear  old  friend." 

"Why  not  I?" 

"  Because  you  are  not  an  imaginative  man.  Mr.  St. 
Clair  wrote  it.  It  was  a  neat  little  plot ;  but  for  my 
part  I  am  thankful.  I  forgive  you  both." 

"And  yet,"  said  my  wife,  " I  did  want  to  hear  how 
each  of  you  two  would  deal  with  a  difficult  text.  I 
presume  it  was  Mr.  St.  Clair  who  wrote  it  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  wrote  it.  Do  you  like  it  ? "  he  added,  turn 
ing  to  Miss  Maywood. 


62  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  I— yes— I  should  have  to  read  it  again  to  be  sure. 
I  wish  Mr.  Clayborne  had  also  given  us  his  sermon. 
If  I  were  Mr.  St.  Clair  I  should  have  made  it  a 
poem." 

I  learned  later  that  Miss  Maywood  had  type-written 
the  sermon,  and  was  therefore  in  the  secret. 

St.  Clair  smiled.     "  I  did,  I  did,  but  I  tore  it  up." 

"  Good  sense  that,"  growled  the  scholar,  and  mean 
while  I  saw  Mrs.  Vincent  gravely  regarding  the  two 
younger  people. 

"  I  did  not  know  how  to  deal  with  it,"  said  Clay- 
borne. 

"  Lack  of  imagination,"  said  St.  Clair,  pleased  at 
the  chance. 

Miss  Maywood  flushed  a  little.  An  attack  on  her 
benefactor  surprised  and  hurt  her.  "  Perhaps— Mr. 
Clayborne — was  afraid." 

"  I  was,"  said  he.  "  Don't  explain,  child.  They  all 
know  what  you  mean.  You  are  quite  correct.  I  can 
reason  and  deal  coldly  enough  with  some  things,  but 
not  with  certain  others." 

St.  Clair  was  hard  to  silence.  "I  am  not  sure  I 
comprehend.  It  seems  to  me  nothing  is  too  sacred 
for  comment.  Was  I  irreverent  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  said  I. 

"  You  people,  I  know,  regard  me  as  irreligious,  be 
cause  you  think  if  a  man  does  not  go  to  church 
and—" 

"  Don't  spoil  it  all  for  us,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  I  am  like  a  butterfly  over  a  stormy 
ocean.  I  flutter,  unaware  of  the  soundless  depths 
below  me." 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  63 

"  Please  don't !  "  said  Sibyl. 

It  was  an  unpleasing  turn  of  talk,  for  we  were  all 
feeling  the  strength  and  reverence  of  his  sermon. 

Quick  to  note  it,  my  wife  said  gaily :  "  Miss  May- 
wood,  when  you  know  Mr.  St.  Clair  better  you  will 
believe  about  one  third  he  says." 

"And,"  cried  St.  Clair,  laughing,  "is  this  the  re 
ward  of  your  preacher?  And  have  none  of  you  the 
courage  to  wrestle  with  the  thought  I  gave  you,  that 
Christ  could  not  have  expected  the  mass  of  men  to 
live  the  life  he  pointed  out  as  desirable  for  the  first 
disciples  of  his  faith  ?  I  saw  the  other  day  at  Owen's 
a  life  of  one  Linacre,  a  doctor,  who  had  the  luck  to 
live  about  1460  to  1524,  when  men  knew  little,  and 
thought  they  knew  all.  In  his  old  age  he  took,  for 
novelty,  to  reading  St.  Matthew.  The  fifth,  sixth, 
and  seventh  chapters  were  enough.  He  threw  the 
book  aside,  and  cried  out,  l  Either  this  is  not  the  gos 
pel  or  we  are  not  Christians ! '  What  else  could  he 
say  ? " 

"  And  is  this  invention  ?  "  said  Clayborne. 

Then,  to  our  amazement,  we  learned  that  our 
scholar  had  never  heard  of  the  great  physician  who 
attended  on  Erasmus  and  was  the  friend  of  Sir 
Thomas  More.  It  did  not  trouble  him.  As  for  St. 
Clair,  he  said,  laughing :  "  I,  Miss  Maywood,  am  the 
court  fool.  All  my  folly  is  my  own,  all  my  wisdom 
is  borrowed." 

"  If  you  were  a  fool,"  said  the  young  woman,  seri 
ously,  "  you  would  not  know  it.  That  is  the  worst 
foolishness  of  folly." 

"  Good  gracious,  my  dear !  "  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 


64  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  That  sounds  like  Mr.  Clayborne's  wisdom,"  said 
my  wife. 

Sibyl  laughed. 

"  Come,  it  is  late,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  We  must 
go.  And,  Sibyl,— I  shall  call  you  Sibyl,— you  are  to 
be  at  my  house  to-morrow  at  three  for  the  Boston 
symphony  concert.  Don't  forget." 

"Forget!     How  could  I?" 

In  the  carriage,— for  we  had  driven  out  to  dine,— 
Mrs.  Vincent  talked  to  me  of  the  evening  we  had 
passed,  while  Vincent  smoked  in  silence.  St.  Clair 
remained  at  Holmwood  for  the  night. 

"  What  do  you  think,"  said  I,  "  of  Miss  Maywood? 
Is  it  a  wise  thing  Clayborne  has  done  ? " 

"  Yes ;  it  was  both  wise  and  kind.  She  will  gain 
enlarged  possibilities  of  enjoyment." 

"And  will  learn  new  limitations  of  happiness," 
said  Vincent. 

"But  anywhere,"  returned  Mrs.  Vincent,  "life 
would  teach  her  at  last  what  that  crippled  body  must 
bring  in  the  way  of  denials  to  a  heart  ready  for  love. 
I  think  there  is  much  in  that  girl.  How  simple  she 
is,  how  acute,  how  oddly  courageous  !  " 

Said  Vincent :  "  Anne,  you  are  going  to  make  a 
favorite  of  this  young  woman.  You  will  dangerously 
enlarge  her  opportunities  for  contrast  of  her  own 
fate  with  that  of  the  more  happily  made.  If  you 
leave  her  to  this  simple  life  of  helping  Clayborne,  it 
will  do  her  no  great  harm,  and  may  perhaps  be  a 
good  thing.  What  you  will  do  will  be  of  more  than 
doubtful  value.  Is  it  not  so,  Owen?  Am  I  not 
right?" 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  65 

No  woman  likes  her  husband  to  call  in  another's 
judgment  to  sustain  his  hostility  of  opinion.  Mrs. 
Vincent  was  quiet  for  a  minute,  and  then  said :  "  You 
may  be  right,  Fred;  but  I  am  not  sure  you  are.  I 
will  be  careful." 

This  she  was  not  likely  to  be,  but  I,  being  discreet, 
held  my  tongue,  and,  after  a  little,  remarked :  "  She 
is  the  Lady  of  Shalott,  and  when  she  floats  out  into 
the  world  her  heart  will  break." 

"Yes;  that  was  what  St.  Clair  meant.  He  has 
terrible  insight  at  times." 

My  wife,  all  this  time  silent,  said :  "  Anne,  my  heart 
aches  for  the  girl.  She  was  a  great  surprise  to  me. 
I  expected  to  see  the  ordinary  typical  New  England 
'  school-marm.'  How  she  must  suffer  with  that  face 
and  that  crumpled  figure  !  I  should  have  no  mirror 
in  my  room  were  I  as  she  is." 

"  Last  week,"  said  I,  "  as  you  know,  she  was  in  bed 
a  day  or  two  with  influenza.  I  saw  her,  at  Clay- 
borne's  request.  She  has  no  large  mirror  in  her 
room." 

"  Poor  child !  "  said  my  wife ;  "  but  there  was  a 
cheval-glass  in  that  room." 

Again  Mrs.  Vincent  was  silent  awhile,  and  then 
said :  "  Fred,  did  you  notice  the  girl's  voice  f  " 

"  I  ?    No ;  what  is  there  to  notice  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Fred !  " 

"  It  is  heavenly  sweet,"  said  I ;  "  like  Sister  Mary's. 
You  remember  her,  Mrs.  Vincent,  at  Chestnut  Hill 
Hospital,  during  the  war." 

"  I  do.    It  was  wonderful." 

"  I  recollect  once,  when  in  a  hospital  in  Washing- 


66  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

ton,  asking  her  to  persuade  a  Confederate  captain  to 
submit  to  the  removal  of  a  part  of  his  hand.  He  had 
absolutely  refused.  I  stood  by  as  she  urged  the  mat 
ter  upon  him.  She  talked  long  and  earnestly,  stating 
the  case  well.  When  she  came  to  an  end  I  said  to 
him,  as  she  moved  away,  '  I  think  you  must  see  the 
need  for  an  operation.' 

"  'What  operation?7 

"  i  Did  you  not  understand  what  Sister  Mary  said  ? ' 

"  '  No,  I  did  n't  understand  what  the  deuce  she 
said.  I  was  listening  to  Her.  Lord,  does  n't  she 
warble !  Do  what  you  like,  doctor.' " 

"  A  rather  doubtful  accomplishment,"  said  Vincent. 
"  I  am  glad  I  have  it  not." 

"  Some  one  else  has,"  said  my  wife,  touching  Anne 
Vincent's  hand. 

"  That  must  be  why  Fred  Vincent  never  knows 
what  I  say  to  him.  When  I  say  seriously,  1 1  want 
five  minutes  of  your  attention,  Fred/  he  says,  '  Very 
good,  Anne.'  Then  after  a  while  he  remarks,  '  I  do 
not  think  I  am  quite  clear,  my  dear,  as  to  what  you 
mean.'  Now  I  shall  agreeably  interpret  his  want  of 
apprehension." 

"  Pure  slander,"  said  Vincent ;  "  I  cannot  defend 
myself.  I  hate  to  talk  in  a  carriage.  But  what  a 
pretty  name  Sibyl  is !  " 


Ill 


[NNE  VINCENT  was  sure  to  consider 
what  Vincent  said  to  her,  and  probably 
he  put  his  case  later  with  his  usual 
vigor  of  statement,  for  that  lady  was 
more  than  commonly  thoughtful  as  to 
where  she  took  the  new  favorite,  and  to  whom  she 
presented  her.  My  wife  may  also  have  contributed 
prudent  counsels,  for  although  she  too  was  attracted, 
and  inclined  to  add  Sibyl  to  her  collection  of  what  we 
called  her  lame  ducks,  she  was  less  apt  than  Anne 
Vincent  to  insist  on  their  acceptance  by  those  who 
were  less  kind  and  more  critical.  Mrs.  Vincent  took 
Miss  Maywood  to  concerts,  now  and  then  to  the 
theater,  and  saw,  personally,  a  good  deal  of  the  girl. 
I  was  sure  that  the  striking  face  of  Sibyl  Maywood 
would  at  once  attract  the  too  attentive  eyes  of  St. 
Clair.  Perfect  physical  beauty  of  body  or  of  face  ex 
cited  him  strangely.  He  held  himself  free  to  study 
the  new  face  or  form,  and  to  make  comments  which 
at  times  seemed  to  us  outrageous.  Then  he  was  given 
to  poetically  idealizing  the  art  idol,  and  imagining 
for  it  moral  and  mental  gifts  which  it  might  or  might 
not  possess.  My  wife  said  that  St.  Clair  was  never 
a  bore,  even  when  he  talked  his  wildest  nonsense,  but 
that  sometimes,  when  he  imagined  some  dull  girl  to 
be  Minerva  because  she  had  the  hand  of  Venus,  the 

G7 


68  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

faint  shadow  of  the  adjective  "  tiresome  "  did  hover 
over  that  sensitive  noun  "talk."  I  said  that  was 
true,  but  elaborate. 

"You  are  ungrateful.  Be  so  good  as  to  say  it 
better." 

I  admitted  my  incapacity,  and  ventured  upon  a 
prophetic  statement.  I  said :  "  If  ever  St.  Glair  feels 
the  charm  of  some  unusual  temperament,  and  sees 
later  the  beauty  of  its  owner,  he  will  be  hopelessly 
tangled  in  the  net  of  love.  He  will  never  be  hard 
hit  in  the  ordinary  way  by  being  caught  first  by  face 
or  form.  He  is  too  accustomed,  as  an  artist,  to  be 
over-critical  and  to  look  for  defects." 

My  wife  admitted  that  there  were  several  ways  of 
falling  in  love,  but  when  I  laughed  because  she  said 
some  men  stumbled  into  love,  she  declined  to  go  on, 
for,  indeed,  her  experience  had  been  large. 

Now,  all  this  took  the  form  of  comments  made  at 
breakfast,  when  most  I  like  to  talk.  During  my  win 
ter  of  work  all  day  long  I  examine  the  witnesses  we 
call  nurses  or  patients,  and  try  with  much  use  of 
skilled  labor  to  get  at  the  truth.  Then  come  the  tired 
evenings,  when  I  have  little  left  to  give.  But  during 
the  night  season  (I  like  that  phrase,  the  night  season  : 
it  implies  change)  the  weary  man  may  unconsciously 
travel  in  stranger  lands  than  daylight  knows,  and 
return  again  refreshed  and  eager,  to  linger  over  the 
earliest  meal,  and  gladly  break  the  fast  of  the  night's 
silence. 

When  my  wife  invited  me  to  say  better  what  she 
had  said,  I  had  to  confess  that  I  could  not.  This 
challenge  came  at  the  close  of  a  half -hour  gay  with 


DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  69 

the  kind  of  good  talk  which  no  man  can  or  should 
expect  to  be  able  to  report  fully.  When  Alice  doubted 
my  wisdom  as  applied  to  our  friend,  I  added  evasively 
that  there  might  be  a  better  way  of  describing  St. 
Glair's  mental  and  moral  attitude  where  the  beautiful 
attracted  him.  I  said :  "  It  is  absolutely  free  from 
the  sensual.77 

"  Yes ;  it  appears  to  be  a  pure  adoration  of  beauty." 

"  No,  no,  it  is  more  complex.  If  it  were  unalloyed 
he  would  not  admit  the  need  to  idealize  the  possessor, 
and  thus  to  excuse  himself.  Is  it  not  our  tendency  to 
attribute  to  mere  beauty  all  that  is  not  beauty  ?  Thus 
man  self -excuses  his  weakness." 

"  But  that  is  love  in  its  childhood,  Owen." 

"  True;  and  now  at  last  you  are  wise.  This  man 
has  brief  love-affairs— oh,  surface  love-affairs  with  a 
hand,  a  foot,  a  face,  a  figure.  It  has  made  mischief, 
my  dear  Alice,  and  will  again,  but  nothing  can  hap 
pen  in  this  way  to  Clayborne's  poor  little  crippled 
cousin." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  stupid  Owen !  You  forget  Clay- 
borne's  Eastern  sayer  of  proverbs  ?  " 

"  What  is  it,  Alice  ?     Hang  his  proverbs !  " 

"  I  forget.     I  thought  I  had  it." 

"  Well,  I  must  go.     Was  it  very  fine  ? " 

"It  was." 

When  I  was  in  the  hall  she  called  me  back.  "  Now 
I  remember  it,"  she  said. 

"Well?" 

"  I  won't  tell  you,  because  you  won't  believe  it." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  I,  and  left  her.  She  has  never 
told  me. 


70  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

On  his  return  from  the  East  St.  Clair  established 
his  studio  in  an  old-fashioned  double  house  in 
an  out-of-the-way  locality  It  belonged  to  Clay- 
borne.  "I  can't  let  it,"  said  the  scholar.  "I  will 
not  sell  my  family  home.  Use  it,  Victor."  St. 
Clair,  who  was  like  a  child  about  gifts>  said,  "  Yes,  it 
will  do  admirably."  To  make  a  studio  a  lofty  addition 
was  built  out  into  the  garden,  and  a  door  opened  into 
it  from  the  old  drawing-room.  The  up-stairs  rooms 
served  for  bedroom  and  study,  and  here  St.  Clair  took 
up  his  abode.  An  old  black  man  became  his  cook 
and  valet. 

Late  in  November  he  asked  us  to  take  tea  with 
him,  and  to  see  the  vase  he  had  made  for  Clayborne's 
garden — the  vase  of  Keats's  poem.  I  confess  to  hav 
ing  been  curious.  It  was  near  dusk  when  we  entered 
the  studio.  Vincent  was  too  busy  to  come.  I  saw 
Miss  Maywood  look  about  her  with  quick  glances  of 
interest.  "  Come,"  I  said  ;  "  let  me  show  you  how 
statues  are  born."  The  clay  models,  the  bits  of  plas 
ter  legs  and  arms,  the  tools,  the  sketches  here  and 
there,  the  costly,  carelessly  used  brocades  and  Orien 
tal  stuffs,  caught  her  eye  in  turn.  She  asked  many 
questions.  At  last  she  said,  "  Where  is  my  vase  ? " 

"  Your  vase  ? " 

"  Yes.  It  was  I  who  told  Mr.  St.  Clair  he  ought  to 
make  it." 

"  Indeed !  "  She  promised  to  be  as  fertile  of  sur 
prises  as  our  poet. 

"  Yes ;  before  I  saw  all  of  you  I  knew  about  Mr. 
St.  Clair.  When  I  made  the  garden  I  said  to  Mr. 
Clayborne  that  it  would  be  pretty  to  have  a  marble 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  71 

vase  like  some  of  his,  which  are,  you  know,  of  clay. 
He  said  it  would,  and  so,  thinking  to  please  him,  I 
wrote  a  little  letter  to  Mr.  St.  Clair.  That  was  how 
he  came  to  think  of  it." 

"  And  when  you  wrote  you  had  not  yet  seen  him  ? " 

"  No.  Was  that  wrong  ?  He  was  a  friend  of  my 
cousin."  She  was  quick  to  observe  the  note  of  faint 
criticism  in  my  query. 

"  Oh,  not  wrong,"  I  said.     "  Did  he  answer  ?  " 

"  No,  he  did  not.  Mr.  Clay  borne,  I  saw,  liked  the 
idea,  and  I  thought  if  I  could  see  the  vase  I  should 
understand  how  Keats  felt  when  he  wrote.  But  now 
I  feel  that  it  must  not  stand  in  the  garden.  It  must 
be  alone  somewhere  in  the  wood.  There  is  a  spring 
— don't  you  think  I  am  right? " 

"  Good  gracious !  I  do  not  know.  It  may  be  a 
failure,  not  fit  to  be  seen  or  put  anywhere." 

"Oh,  do  not  say  that!  That  would  really  grieve 
me.  Let  us  see  it."  With  these  words  she  walked 
across  the  room. 

Mrs.  Vincent,  my  wife,  and  Clayborne  were  stand 
ing  near  a  life-size  statue,  which  was  boldly  modeled, 
and  still  in  the  clay.  St.  Clair  had  thrown  off  the 
wet  sheet  which  kept  it  moist. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  said  I.    "  Ah,  I  see !  » 

"  It  is  only  a  crude  sketch,"  said  the  sculptor,  "  the 
model  for  a  monument." 

"  Lincoln  !  "  said  I. 

"  Yes  j  the  two  Lincolns— the  complete  leader  of 
men  and  the  boy.  It  has  been  rejected  by  the  com 
mittee." 

The  sketch  was  of  the  utmost  vigor.      On  a  rock 


72  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

high  above  us  stood  the  great  President,  with  his 
strong,  homely,  humorous  face,  a  look  of-  loneliness 
in  the  eyes.  The  hands  were  clasped,  palms  down. 
I  once  saw  him  standing  in  this  attitude.  We  were 
silent  a  moment. 

"  When  was  it  ?  "  said  Miss  Maywood. 

My  wife  looked  at  her.  "  When  ?  What  do  you 
mean,  Sibyl?" 

The  girl  did  not  seem  to  hear.  She  was  gazing  in 
tensely  at  the  storied  visage,  so  pathetic  with  the 
deep  lines  drawn  by  multitudinous  decisions  and  fifty 
years  of  patient  endurance  of  many  things. 

St.  Clair  replied  for  her.  "  I  thought  of  him  as  on 
the  night  before  his  death.  He  is  thinking  of  his  life, 
of  his  boyhood,  of  the  past." 

Beside  the  rough  rock,  at  his  feet,  stood  the  long, 
ungainly  figure  of  Lincoln,  the  boy,  in  a  hunting- 
shirt,  his  hand  resting  on  an  ax-handle,  one  foot  on  a 
log,  a  serious  figure,  in  the  brief  pause  from  labor, 
considering  with  quiet,  lineless  face  the  future,  as 
above  him  the  complete  man  regarded  an  heroic  past. 

"  How  could  they  reject  it  ? "  said  my  wife. 

"  Committees  are  quaint  animals,"  said  the  sculp 
tor  ;  "  but  they  cannot  deprive  me  of  the  pleasure 
this  conception  brought  me." 

"  Yes,"  said  my  wife ;  "  that  must  be  the  best  of  it. 
Do  you  recall  the  monument  at  Constantinople  they 
call  <Les  Pleureuses'?  No  committee  would  have 
passed  that." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,"  cried  St.  Clair  j  "  and  I  know  what 
you  want  to  say  of  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Alice,  smiling,  "  teU  us." 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  73 

"  Miss  Maywood,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  secretary, 
"it  is  a  large  tomb,  and  on  it  are  eighteen  figures 
of  one  woman,  in  every  mood  of  sorrow,  from  the 
anguish  of  recent  loss  to  the  calm  of  attained  se 
renity." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  North,  "it  is  one  and  the  same 
woman,  and  the  tomb  is  her  husband's.  It  must 
have  taken  long  to  make.  She  may,  she  must,  have 
seen  that  the  sculptor  was  telling  in  marble  not  only 
what  she  herself  had  been,  but  also  what  she  would 
be." 

"Do  you  know  the  lines  about  it  ?  I  can  recall 
only  the  first  verse : 

What  gracious  nunnery  of  grief  is  here ! 

One  woman  garbed  in  sorrow's  every  mood; 
Each  fair  presentment  celled  apart  in  fear, 

Lest  that  herself  upon  herself  intrude, 
And  break  some  tender  dream  of  sorrow's  day 
Here  cloistered  lonely,  set  in  marble  gray." 

"Who  wrote  that?"  asked  Clayborne. 

St.  Clair  did  not  reply,  but  said :  "  Come,  now,  and 
see  Keats's  vase— my  vase." 

Leaving  Sibyl  and  the  scholar  contemplative  before 
his  great  hero,  Lincoln,  we  followed  St.  Clair,  and 
saw  him  take  the  cover  from  a  marble  vase  some  four 
feet  in  height.  At  a  loss  for  a  pedestal,  the  sculptor 
had  set  his  vase  on  a  broken-backed  kitchen  chair. 
He  had  strengthened  one  cracked  leg  with  twine  and 
a  splint  of  wood.  The  incongruity  of  the  vase  and 
the  improvised  support  struck  me  at  once,  but  I  said 
nothing.  Then  I  heard  Clayborne,  who  had  left 


74  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

Sibyl:  "Why  did  you  put  it  on  that  hideous  stool, 
Victor  ?  It  is  very  beautiful ;  but  the  chair  spoils  it. 
It  is  like  putting  a  beautiful  head  on  a  distorted 
body."  As  he  spoke,  Sibyl  approached. 

Mrs.  Vincent  looked  up  at  the  speaker.  She  had 
hoped,  as  she  told  me  later,  that  Miss  Maywood  had 
not  heard  him.  I  was  so  charmed  with  the  loveliness 
of  my  friend's  realization  of  the  poet's  dream  that  I 
scarcely  took  in  this  tactless  criticism.  Nor,  strange 
to  say,  did  St.  Glair  apprehend  the  awkward  force  of 
Clayborne's  words.  He  looked  annoyed,  but  this  was 
because  he  loved  all  praise  and  deeply  felt  all  blame. 
Above  everything  he  liked  praise  from  Clayborne, 
who  now  called  to  Sibyl  as  she  came  nearer. 

"  Look  at  this,  Sibyl.  The  pedestal  ruins  the  vase. 
Is  not  that  so  ? " 

He  had  not  turned  as  he  spoke.  She  made  no  re 
ply.  Mrs.  Vincent  said  afterward  that  the  girl  heard 
it  all,  and  that  she  flushed  and  slipped  away  at  once. 
My  wife  spoke  quickly  a  whispered  word  to  Anne 
Vincent,  and  then  said  aloud:  "I  think  Sibyl  has 
gone  into  the  outer  room,  Mr.  Clayborne.  I  will  see 
about  the  tea  and  send  her  back." 

In  a  few  minutes  she  herself  returned,  saying  that 
we  must  all  come  and  take  tea ;  Sibyl  would  have  it 
ready  in  a  few  minutes.  St.  Clair  had  arranged  the 
remaining  apartment  on  the  ground  floor  as  his  din 
ing-room.  Thanks  to  Mrs.  Vincent,  it  was  simply 
furnished.  When  we  entered,  Miss  Maywood  was 
bending  over  the  silver  samovar  which  St.  Clair  had 
brought  from  Russia.  I  saw  Clayborne  looking  at 
her  with  unusual  attention. 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  75 

"Why  did  you  run  away?  What  is  the  matter, 
child?"  he  said,  with  the  absolute  directness  which 
characterized  the  man.  I  saw  that  her  eyes  were  red. 
Mrs.  Vincent  touched  his  arm  as  she  passed.  "  But  I 
must  know,"  he  said. 

"  The  child  has  a  headache,"  said  my  wife,  quick 
to  help.  "  Here  is  your  tea,  lemon,  and  three  lumps 
of  sugar." 

"  Let  her  alone,"  whispered  Mrs.  Vincent  to  Clay- 
borne,  and,  apropos  of  the  vase,  began  to  abuse  him 
roundly  because  of  his  incapacity  to  care  for  the  best 
verse.  This  lack  of  imagination  was  why  the  critics  de 
clared  that  his  historical  portraits  had  no  life  in  them. 
The  giant  took  up  the  glove,  and  was  soon  deep  in  a 
contest  as  to  what  history  should  be. 

We  talked  gaily  over  our  tea,  and  at  last  went 
away. 

Clayborne  took  my  wife  home,  and  I,  having  an 
errand  elsewhere,  went  with  Mrs.  Vincent.  9 

"That  girl  is  very  interesting,"  I  said,  "but  not 
quite  easy  to  comprehend." 

"  And  you  who  are  supposed  to  understand  women ! 
You  really  are  exasperating  sometimes." 

"This  is  a  woman,  not  women."  I  was  rather 
proud  of  knowledge  born  of  many  years  of  varied 
contact  with  the  sex. 

"  Sick  women  you  may  know,"  she  added,  "  but  not 
the  rest." 

"  I  did  not  say  I  understood  Miss  May  wood.  I  do 
not.  What  was  the  matter  ?  She  looked  at  the  vase 
and  at  once  slipped  away.  When  we  joined  you  she 
had  been  in  tears.  Am  I  indiscreet  in  asking  why  1 " 


76  DK.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  No ;  I  will  tell  you,  but  any  one  could  see  why. 
When  Clayborne  saw  that  really  beautiful  thing  set 
on  an  old  broken-backed  kitchen  chair,  he  said,  with 
his  terrible  bluntness,  l  Why  did  you  set  that  noble 
vase  on  a  broken-backed,  deformed  chair?'  You 
heard  the  rest.  Could  he  have  chosen  a  more  stupid 
thing  to  say  ? " 

"No.  But  really  it  seems  a  quite  natural  criti 
cism." 

"  Yes,  natural,  and  tactless  like  many  natural  com 
ments.  Tact  consists  in  the  suppression  of  the 
natural." 

"  I  see,"  said  I.  "  She,  too,  is  like  that,  a  lovely  head 
set  on  a  maimed  body.  I  was  dull,  but  I  scarcely 
heard  him.  You  must  never  tell  him.  He  is  as 
tender  as  she,  but  he  has  no  tentacula.  He  is  like  a 
crab  j  all  his  hardness  is  outside.  To  know  he  hurt 
her  would  grieve  him  deeply.  He  is  very  sensitive  as 
to  this  girl,  and  has  grown  to  love  the  poor  child 
with  a  strong,  parental,  protective  affection." 

"  And  she  is  worth  it,  Owen  North." 

It  was  a  curious  little  catastrophe,  and  told  me  far 
too  much  of  what  Sibyl  would  suffer,  unless  with  ed 
ucation  there  should  develop  a  larger  self-control  and 
capacity  to  strengthen,  under  the  inevitable  trials  her 
deformity  must  bring. 

For  a  time  neither  of  us  spoke.  Then  Mrs.  Vin 
cent  said  abruptly :  "I  wish  St.  Clair  would  keep 
away  from  her.  It  is  the  old  story.  He  was  at 
Holmwood  all  last  week.  He  reads  to  her,  sings  with 
her,  and  now  he  wants  to  make  a  rilievo  of  her  head. 
Mr.  Clayborne,  for  once,  had  a  crumb  of  sense,  and 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  77 

said  no,  upon  which  St.  Clair  went  into  a  rage,  and 
said  Clayborne  had  no  right  to  deprive  an  artist  of 
his  natural  privilege  to  study  the  beautiful." 

"  His  rages  do  not  last  long,  and  what  nonsense  !  n 

"  Yes  j  but  you  see— you  understand  me,  I  am 
sure." 

"  Yes,  only  too  well ;  but  what  can  I  do  ?  He  is— 
well,  who  can  help  seeing  his  personal  beauty  1  The 
girl  will  fall  in  love.  He  is  so  fatally  attractive,  and 
she,  poor  little  maid !  — 

"  Could  you  not  speak  to  him  ?  " 

"Hardly,"  said  I.  I  remembered  one  too  painful 
occasion  when  I  had  spoken  out  all  of  my  mind  to 
St.  Clair. 

"  Then  I  must  speak  to  her.  I  do  so  plainly  fore 
see  trouble.  Yes,  I  shall  wait.  I  will  do  nothing 
hastily.  Ah,  here  we  are  at  home.  Bring  Alice  to 
dine  to-morrow.  Good  night.  Don't  fail  me." 

I  well  knew  that  Mrs.  Vincent  would  not  at  once 
fulfil  her  intention.  Indeed,  she  might  never  do  so. 
Knowing  St.  Clair  as  we  did,  it  was  not  an  unreason 
able  intention,  but  I  felt  that  it  was  rather  premature. 
After  all,  Anne  Vincent's  second  thoughts  were  the 
wise  bases  of  her  life,  and  if  she  had  always  acted  on 
her  declarations  as  to  what  she  thought  and  said  was 
advisable  she  would  have  been  a  difficult  wife  and  a 
nearly  impossible  friend.  I  am  myself  liable  to  fits 
of  dullness  of  apprehension,  and  also  at  times  to 
failure  to  see  what  is  obvious  to  others.  I  may  add 
that  I  am  now  and  then  surprised  at  the  insight  I 
have  as  to  what  folks  are  or  will  do.  On  this  occa 
sion  I  had  to  be  enlightened  by  Anne  Vincent  and 


78  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

my  wife,  who,  as  I  soon  learned,  shared  her  friend's 
opinion  that  there  might  already  be  mischief  brew 
ing.  I  found  it  hard  to  believe,  but  after  a  little  talk 
we  were  finally  at  one  as  to  the  present  value  of 
silence. 


IV 


|NE  day  in  the  delightful  time  of  au 
tumn  all  of  us  chanced  to  be  together 
at  Holmwood  for  afternoon  tea.  St. 
Clair  was  late,  and  before  he  came  our 
host  wished  to  show  us  the  lily-pond,  to 
make  which  he  had  turned  aside  the  waters  of  the 
creek.  He  meant  it  to  become  a  part  of  his  wild 
garden,  and  desired  to  fill  and  surround  it  with  our 
native  aquatic  plants.  After  seeing  what  he  had 
done,  we  came  back  to  the  house,  and  soon  began  to 
talk  about  St.  Glair's  sermon,  which  all  of  us  had 
liked.  Mrs.  Vincent  had  to  own  that  St.  Clair  had 
dealt  fairly  with  a  text  we  all  thought  hard  to  handle. 
"  Try  us  with  another,"  said  I. 
"  No,"  she  said ;  "  I  dislike  making  a  kind  of  game 
of  it." 

"  That  depends,  Anne,"  said  my  wife,  "  on  how  you 
take  it— in  what  spirit.  I  am  sure  that  no  one  could 
have  dealt  more  reverently  with  the  text  than  our 
friend  did." 

"  Yes,  dear,  you  are  right.  Only  I  wish  I  thought 
he  was  in  earnest." 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Sibyl,  "  that  I,  for  one,  did  get 
new  and  useful  thoughts  out  of  Mr.  St.  Glair's  sermon. 
It  may  have  needed  a  note  of  appeal  at  the  close." 

"Ah,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "that  is  so 
difficult.  I  heard  a  delightful  gentleman,  who  was  a 

79 


80  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

clergyman,  say  that  when  at  the  close  of  a  sermon  he 
came  to  apply  a  truth  to  the  people  before  him,  he 
always  felt  as  if  he  were  taking  a  liberty." 

"  With  young  preachers  one  feels  that,  but  I  liked 
this  sermon,"  said  I,  "  because  it  did  leave  to  the  in 
telligence  of  those  who  heard  it  the  inference  of  ap 
peal,  the  beautiful  moral." 

"We  are  perhaps  an  unusual  congregation,"  said 
Clay  borne,  "  and  yet  I  do  not  see  the  personal  appeal 
so  apparent  to  you." 

"  He  knows  too  much  already,"  laughed  St.  Clair, 
who  had  just  come  in.  "  Let  us  leave  it  untold  to 
punish  him  for  always  knowing  so  much  more  than 
we." 

Clayborne  protested  amid  continued  merriment, 
and  at  last  retired  into  the  recesses  of  his  own  mind 
to  search  for  the  needed  appeal  or  the  missing  moral. 

As  my  wife  still  insisted  on  her  wish  for  that  text 
on  which  no  man  could  with  relevancy  preach,  Mrs. 
Vincent  said :  "  Well,  my  dear  Alice,  if  you  really 
want  to  have  a  competition  in  preaching,  I  will  pre 
sent  you  with  a  text.  I  fancy  that  no  one  has  ever 
used  it,  or  ever  will  use  it.  It  may  serve  to  put  an 
end  to  your  ambitions." 

"  And  this  impossible  text,"  said  St.  Clair,  "  is—" 

"  Oh,"  cried  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  it  is— but  you  are  out 
of  it." 

"  Good !     I  am  hors  concours" 

"  Yes ;  we  agree  to  that,"  said  I. 

"  My  text  is,  '  So  Pilate,  willing  to  content  the  peo 
ple,  released  Barabbas  unto  them.7 " 

"  I  am  very  well  out  of  it,"  cried  St.  Clair  j  "  I  see 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  81 

no  interest  in  your  text.  The  man  was  a  thief,  and 
was  set  at  liberty.  That  is  all." 

My  wife  laughed.  "  The  absence  of  imagination 
renders  some  minds  very  unproductive." 

It  much  amused  us  to  hear  St.  Clair  thus  rated. 
He,  too,  enjoyed  it. 

"  Oh,  go  on.  My  imagination  goes  on  frolics,  gets 
drunk,  goes  mad,  but  is  always  about,  and  has  the 
sense  to  know  when  its  key  will  not  unlock  things." 

"It  is  from  want  of  knowledge  this  time,"  said 
Clayborne.  "  As  you  quote  it,  the  text  is  barren ; 
but  not  when  one  considers  the  laws  of  the  Romans. 
You  will  find  in— 

"  Please,  please  !  "  cried  Anne  Vincent.  "  Do  not 
help  them  with  the  sermon.  I  protest." 

"  But  I  see  so  clearly.  It  is  a  lack  of  charity  to  fail 
to  contribute  essential  knowledge." 

Mrs.  Vincent  looked  up,  amused  at  this  cumbrous 
statement.  "  Then  do  not  contribute  your  clearer 
view  to  our  lesser  insight— or  outsight  j  is  there  such 
a  word  ? " 

"  No  need  for  it,  and,  dear  Mrs.  Vincent,  I  am 
dumb." 

"  Who  will  do  it?"  said  she. 

No  one  claimed  this  doubtful  privilege. 

"  Alas !  "  cried  my  wife,  "  are  we  so  bankrupt  of 
wits  ? » 

"You  should  have  accepted  Clayborne's  charity," 
said  St.  Clair. 

"  Charity  ? "  returned  Clayborne.  "  Another  cup, 
Mrs.  Vincent.  Charity  j  perhaps  I  misapplied  the 
word." 


82  DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

I  saw  the  twinkle  of  self-amused  mischief  in  St. 
Glair's  face  as  he  said,  "  I  know  a  nice  little  story 
about  charity  out  of  your  favorite  sayer  of  sooths, 
El-Din-Attar." 

"  Well,"  said  Clayborne,  "  go  on.  It  is  not  very 
long,  I  trust." 

"  No,"  laughed  St.  Clair  j  "  I  shall  never  compete  with 
you  as  to  quantity  5  as  to  quality,  that  is  another  affair." 

"  Oh,  go  on,"  said  Clayborne. 

"  It  is  a  story,"  cried  Mrs.  Vincent,  drawing  nearer. 

"  Haroun-al-Easchid  was  again  of  a  mind  to  play 
beggar.  He  betook  himself  to  the  gate  of  the  palace, 
where,  even  after  dark,  many  went  in  and  out.  Pres 
ently  came  forth  the  court  poet,  Mustapha,  and  with 
him  the  court  fool.  The  caliph  made  himself  small  as 
they  approached,  and  said:  'Alms  to  the  starving. 
The  caliph,  men  say,  hath  made  you  both  rich  to-day. 
Give  as  it  was  given/ 

"  i  That  were  to  want  respect,'  said  Mustapha,  '  to 
abandon  so  soon  what  his  mightiness  the  protector 
of  the  poor  has  given.  In  the  words  of  a  wise  poet  of 
the  infidel,  "  Sing  a  song  of  sixpence,"  which  is  to  say, 
write  a  great  poem  like  mine,  and  collect  of  lovers  of 
song,  such  as  Haroun  the  Magnificent,  thy  propor 
tioned  pay,  as  I  have  done/  " 

"  What  stuff !  "  said  Clayborne. 

"  Said  the  caliph :  '  I  understand  sixpence  to  be  a 
very  modest  sum ;  that  must  be  the  usual  pay  of  infidel 
poets.  Thou  art  not  generous,  but  thou  hast  given 
me  to-night  the  coin  of  reflection.  The  poor  of  soul 
are  the  poor  of  pocket.' 

"  l  To  give  the  coin  of  reflection/  said  the  poet,  *  is 


DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  83 

my  business  and  my  delight.  Thou  art  welcome  to 
all  that  I  have.' 

"  '  Alas  ! '  cried  the  beggar,  i  but  will  it  buy  me 
kabobs  or  so  much  as  the  tail  of  a  fish  ? ' 

"  Upon  this  he  turned  to  the  poet's  companion,  and 
said :  l  O  Fool,  thou,  too,  art  rich  to-day.  Let  me  have 
a  penny ;  I  am  hungry.' 

"  '  I  must  justify  the  proverb,'  cried  the  fool,  * "  A 
fool  and  his  money—" '  and  gave  him  a  handful  of 
gold  sequins. 

"  <  I  shall  pray  for  you  at  morning/  said  Haroun. 
'And  now  I  have  emptied  the  head  of  wisdom  and 
the  purse  of  folly.' 

"  '  True/  said  the  fool ;  1 1  have  not  a  penny  for 
supper  •  I  gave  you  all.  Give  me  alms,  a  trifle,  I 
pray  you.' 

"  c  Not  I/  cried  the  beggar  ;  (  that  were  to  show  dis 
respect  to  the  proverb  you  so  wisely  quoted.  I,  at 
least,  am  no  fool.' 

"  *  You  rascal ! '  cried  the  poet,  laughing,  <  give  me 
back  a  little  of  my  wisdom.' 

"  1 1  have  given  to  both  of  you/  returned  Haroun, 
'  and  ye  know  it  not.' 

"'By  Allah! '  said  the  fool,  'the  man  must  be  a 
poet.  Let  us  go  to  the  tavern  and  drink  of  the  wis 
dom  called  wine/ 

"  Thus  saying,  they  went  away.  The  next  day,  in 
the  divan,  Haroun  said  to  Mustapha,  <  Did  a  beggar 
ask  alms  of  thee  last  night  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,  Sustainer  of  the  universe,  Prop  of  the  stars. 
It  is  as  thou  hast  said/ 

"  l  And  you  gave  not !     You  also  asked  alms  of  him.' 


84  DR.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

" c  I  did,  O  Inventor  of  wisdom.' 

"  '  What  did  the  beggar  give  f ' 

"  The  poet  shook  in  his  sandals.  l  O  Caliph,  he  said 
he  had  given ;  I  knew  not  what  he  meant.' 

" '  A  pretty  poet ! >  cried  Haroun.  1 I,  too,  am  a  sufi 
poet.  I  will  interpret.  He  gave  you  both  the  noble 
alms  which  Allah  gives  to  all  men,  the  alms  called 
opportunity.  Henceforth  thou,  O  Poet,  art  my  court 
Fool.  And  thou,  O  Fool,  be  thou  my  Poet.  Abide 
now  in  the  shadow  of  reflection,  and  find  me  a  rhyme 
for  opportunity.7 

"  '  Immunity ! '  cried  the  fool,  laughing ;  '  forgive 
my  brother ! ' 

" l  Thy  brother  V  asked  the  caliph. 

"  '  Yes,  my  foster-brother.  We  were  both  fed  from 
the  breast  of  folly  j  all  poets  are/  " 

"How  do  you  do  it?"  asked  Miss  May  wood. 

Even  Clayborne  was  amused,  and  called  it  wisdom, 
and  so  we  strayed  into  other  chat. 

A  few  days  later  our  friends  dined  with  us.  Clay- 
borne  and  I  played  chess  after  dinner,  and  the  rest 
were  talking,  when  the  servant  brought  me  a  large 
envelop  marked  "  Immediate."  I  said,  "  Pardon  me, 
Clayborne,"  and  opened  it.  I  looked  around,  and  said : 
"  Who  wrote  this!  It  is  a  sermon, — hardly  that, — a 
something  on  Mrs.  Vincent's  text.  Who  wrote  it  ? " 

St.  Clair  and  Clayborne  denied  any  share  in  it  j  I 
certainly  had  none. 

"  Was  it— is  it  yours,  Miss  Maywood?" 

She  said :  "  No,  indeed.   Read  it ;  then  we  can  guess.'' 

"Let  me  see  it,"  said  Alice.  "It  is  type- written 
and  mailed  to  you,  Owen.  Let  us  hear  it." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  85 

"  By  all  means/'  said  Clayborne., 

Upon  this  we  settled  ourselves  to  listen,  and  I  read. 
It  began  with  the  text,  "  So  Pilate,  willing  to  content 
the  people,  released  Barabbas  unto  them."  "  In  four 
places  this  man,  who  says  no  word  of  or  for  himself, 
is  spoken  of.  He,  it  is  probable,  was,  like  our  Saviour, 
known  by  the  commonly  used  name  Jesus,  Jesus  Bar- 
abbas.  The  Jews  desired  his  release,  as  Pilate  knew. 
He  is  mentioned  variously  as  a  notable  prisoner,  a 
robber,  a  murderer  during  insurrection,  a  leader  of 
sedition.  It  seems  fair  to  infer  that,  if  a  Jew,  he 
may  have  been  one  who,  during  unsuccessful  revolt, 
had  committed  what  the  Roman  rule  regarded  as 
murder.  If  so,  the  Jews  would  naturally  have  been 
inclined  to  think  other  than  ill  of  him.  He  may  not 
have  been  a  murderer,  or  even  a  bad  man.  Before 
the  Roman  procurator,  Pilate,  in  the  hall  of  judg 
ment,  stood  this  Jesus  Barabbas,  the  man  set  free, 
and  that  other  Jesus,  the  Christ,  in  his  white  Syrian 
robe.  l  So  Pilate  released  Barabbas  unto  them.' 
What  thoughts  were  in  the  mind  of  Christ  as  he 
looked  on  the  man  in  whose  place  he  was  to  die  ?  In 
this  tragic  hour  we  seem  hardly  aware  of  any  one 
but  the  silent  Christ,  who  had  said  his  say,  and  would 
speak  no  more  to  man.  The  released  criminal,  who 
may  have  been  innocent  of  anything  but  hatred  of  the 
oppressors  of  his  race,  has  for  me  a  share  in  the  his 
toric  interest  of  that  memorable  hour.  He  was  free. 
Astonished  and  relieved,  he,  too,  must  surely  have 
looked  in  turn  at  the  unmoved  figure  before  Pilate. 
He  must  have  heard  of  him,  and  no  doubt  shared  the 
disbelief  in  his  message  held  by  all  in  that  judgment- 


86  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

hall.  He  could  not  have  been  human  and  remained 
without  some  thought  of  the  strange  situation  which 
gave  him  back  to  hope  and  life.  Then  he  turned  and 
went  out,  glad  of  the  fresh  air  of  freedom.  How  can 
we  fail  to  imagine  the  rest?  Did  his  interest  cease 
here?  I  cannot  so  believe.  Among  the  many  who 
stood  to  see  the  Christ  go  past  to  die,  stood  Barabbas 
by  the  wayside.  As  the  Christ  went  past  he  set  his 
eyes  on  the  man  Barabbas.  I  think  they  said,  '  Fol 
low  thou  me,'  and  the  man  arose  and  went  after  him. 
When  the  night  was  deepening  around  the  mournful 
group  below  the  cross,  afar  off  sat  the  malefactor. 
Above  hung  the  tortured  body  of  the  dead  Christ. 
He,  too,  was  released  by  a  greater  than  Pilate— Death. 
Then  one  touched  the  shoulder  of  the  man  Barabbas. 
He  turned  in  alarm.  'Have  no  fear;  thou  art  the 
first  for  whom  he  died,  and  he  died  for  many.  Go, 
and  sin  no  more.'  Upon  this  Barabbas  arose  and 
girded  his  loins,  and  went  forth  into  the  desert,  and 
was  seen  no  more  of  those  who  had  known  him." 

" Is  that  all?"  said  Alice. 

"  Yes,  all/7  said  I.  "  It  is  hardly  to  be  called  a  ser 
mon." 

"  I  do  not  think  he  was  a  robber,"  said  Mrs.  Vin 
cent.  "  I  like  to  believe  that  he  was  not." 

"  If,"  said  Clay  borne,  "  he  were,  as  he  might  have 
been,  only  a  rebel  against  Roman  rule,  he  may  have 
fallen  in  the  great  siege  of  Jerusalem,  a  leader  of  his 
ruined  race." 

"  Or  through  life  have  followed  forever  those  sad 
eyes.  Who  can  say  ? "  It  was  St.  Clair  who  spoke. 

"  And  who  wrote  it  ? "  said  I. 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  87 

No  one  could  or  would  say.  We  talked  it  over  for 
a  while,  making  vain  guesses. 

When,  later,  St.  Clair  had  risen  and  was  about  to 
take  his  leave,  he  said:  "  I  was  stupid  as  to  that  text ; 
but  why  did  the  writer  end  his  sermon  just  when  it 
had  brought  him  to  the  point  where  the  story,  with 
an  ever-enlarging  moral,  takes  in  so  much  of  life  ?  A 
lost  chance,  a  lost  chance  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  said  we.     "  Go  on." 

"No,"  he  said;  "not  I.  Good  night";  and  that 
unstated  wisdom  never  became  ours. 

Clayborne  and  I  went  back  to  our  unfinished  game, 
leaving  the  women  still  earnestly  guessing  at  what 
St.  Clair  meant.  Vincent  watched  us  in  silence.  I 
won  at  last. 

Said  Vincent,  "  You  went  wrong  with  that  knight, 
Clayborne." 

"  I  did." 

"  I  find  it  hard  not  to  criticize  openly  a  game  when 
I  am  looking  on,"  said  Vincent. 

" That  reminds  me,"  said  I,  "of  what  General  Sher 
idan  told  me.  I  had  asked  him  about  the  Franco- 
Prussian  war.  He  said  that,  being  with  King  William, 
he  saw,  and  could  not  fail  to  anticipate,  more  or  less 
of  Moltke's  plans  and  the  results.  He  said  he  was  like 
an  expert  watching  a  game  of  chess ;  that  the  fail 
ure  to  see  how  to  use  cavalry  was  remarkable  on 
both  sides,  and  that  he  sometimes  found  it  hard  to 
keep  quiet." 

"  I  am  sure  he  did,"  said  Vincent,  "  though  he  could 
be  as  silent  as  Grant." 

"  That  is  saying  a  good  deal.     Dr.  B told  me 


88  DE.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS 

that  in  two  years  of  constant  intercourse  with  Grant 
he  only  once  heard  him  express  an  opinion  of  any 
officer  on  either  side." 

"And  that  once?"  queried  Clayborne. 

"  It  was  at  Donaldson.  Dr.  B complained  that 

his  hospitals  were  so  near  the  Confederate  lines  that 
a  sally  would  certainly  put  them  in  peril.  General 
Grant  said :  '  Be  easy.  I  know  the  generals  in  com 
mand.  They  are  thinking  far  more  as  to  how  they 
shall  stay  inside  than  how  they  shall  get  out.'  And 
yet,"  continued  I,  "Grant  liked  to  talk.  But  that 
was  after  the  war.  Another  game  ? " 

"No 5  we  must  go." 

When  we  were  alone,  we  three,  my  wife,  my  cigar, 
and  this  writer,  I  said  to  Alice  :  "  You  wrote  that  little 
poetic  commentary.  It  is  not  a  sermon." 

"Yes 5  I  thought  you  would  know.  I  want  you  to 
like  it." 

"I  liked  it  very  much." 

Although  Alice  found  it  agreeable  to  relate  her 
thought  on  paper,  she  had  no  ambition  to  be  seen  in 
print.  When  I  said  that  I  liked  what  she  modestly 
described  as  a  shred  of  a  possible  sermon,  she  was 
pleased.  She  often  complained  that  to  express  her 
self  in  speech  was  never  satisfactory,  but  that  when 
she  wrote  she  felt  assured  of  power  to  state  her 
thought.  This  is  also  my  own  case.  She  said,  "  You 
will  not  tell  ? "  I  said  no,  but  that  the  slow  mecha 
nism  of  Clayborne's  mind  would  be  sure  to  grind  out 
the  truth,  and,  in  fact,  this  proved  to  be  as  I  pre 
dicted. 


were  again  together  after  dinner,  but 
this  time  it  was  in  the  Vincents'  draw 
ing-room.  Miss  May  wood  was  not  with 
us. 

"  Tell  us  some  new  thing,  Owen  North," 
said  Mrs.  Vincent,  turning  round  on  the  piano-stool. 
She  had  been  singing  capriciously,  as  birds  sing,  bits 
of  songs. 

"  Some  new  thing  ?  That  is  desirable,"  said  Clay- 
borne,  "  or  not." 

"  What  a  challenge  !  Some  new  thing !  I  cannot. 
I  was  just  now  thinking  over  St.  Glair's  sermon.  It 
took  me  back  to  my  remembrance  of  a  sermon  I  once 
heard.  It  was  during  the  third  year  of  the  war.  I  was 
with  Phillips  Brooks  on  the  coast  of  Maine.  We  went 
to  a  Methodist  meeting-house  on  Sunday  morning.  I 
have  been  trying  to  recall  the  text." 

"  Can  you  recall  the  sermon  ?  "  said  my  wife. 

"  Yes  ]  after  a  fashion." 

"  Then  tell  it,  and  let  us  find  the  text  to  fit  it." 

"Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "given  the  sermon,  to 
find  the  text.  That  might  often  be  difficult." 

"  What  the  preacher  desired  was  to  make  clear  that 
we  should  always  do  our  duty  without  regard  to  con 
sequences.  He  assured  his  hearers  that  very  often 
they  would  find  it  easier  than  to  shirk  it.  He  said : 


90  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

'  There  is  a  ship  ashore,  we  will  say ;  got  to  get  her 
men  off.  It 's  right  risky.  Well,  so  is  shipwreck  of 
a  man's  soul.  You  've  got  to  choose.7  He  had  many 
illustrations.  He  described  the  battle  between  the 
Israelites  and  the  Amalekites.  He  said  that  Moses 
considered  the  fight  through  a  telescope.  This  nearly 
upset  even  the  technical  gravity  of  the  famous 
preacher,  my  companion.  The  fishermen  and  sailors 
were  undisturbed.  What  more  natural  to  them  than  a 
telescope  ?  '  Do  your  duty/  he  said,  <  and  you  '11  often 
find  the  Lord  lettin'  you  off  easy.  I  was  chaplain 
last  year  to  a  Maine  regiment.  Our  time  was  out. 
We  were  asked  to  stay  on  and  volunteer  for  a  fight 
next  day.  I  told  the  boys,  and  some  said  no— only  a 
few,  mostly  married  men.  The  rest  stayed  right  on. 
Next  day  at  dawn  I  said  a  few  strengthenin'  words, 
and  then  we  went  on.  It  was  a  little  outlyin'  fort, 
south  of  Petersburg.  Well,  we  rushed  it.  My  friends, 
the  Rebs  had  left.  There  was  n't  no  one  there.  We 
did  n't  lose  a  man,  and  we  saved  our  souls  alive. 
This  is  how  God  is  good  to  a  man  that  does  his  duty. 
Alive  or  dead,  that  man  is  safe.  That 's  so  whenever 
a  man  's  got  to  take  risks  on  land  or  sea.  Just  you 
think  of  that,  my  friends,  when  life  is  stormy,  and 
your  soul 's  on  a  lee  shore.  The  right-doin'  man  has 
always  got  two  strings  to  his  bow.  You  may  get  out 
and  be  none  the  worse,  or  you  may  die  and  never 
come  to  any  shore  but  where  the  black  waves  of 
death  break  on  the  golden  sands  of  heaven ;  and  the 
hand  that  will  be  stretched  out  to  you,  there  ain't  need 
to  tell  you  whose  it  will  be.'  This  is  all  I  can  recall." 
"  That  old  proverb,"  said  Vincent,  "  of  the  bow- 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  91 

strings,  which  comes  down  from  the  bowmen  of 
Cressy  or  Agincourt,  has  had  a  long  life.  I  found 
another  in  one  of  Queen  Bess's  letters.  She  says: 
1  He  who  seeketh  two  strings  to  one  bowe  may  shute 
strong,  but  never  strait.'  There  is  a  small  literature 
of  proverbs  about  the  bow.  I  find  your  sermon  much 
to  my  mind." 

"  And,"  said  Clayborne,  "  you  did  not  make  it  up  ? " 

"  No ;  I  have  tried  to  render  it  fairly.  That  it  is 
verbally  accurate  I  cannot  say.  Find  me  his  text. 
That  I  have  lost." 

We  discussed  this  want  in  vain.  All  that  we  could 
be  sure  of  was  that  the  text  must  have  suggested  the 
sermon.  At  last  Vincent  said  to  his  wife,  "  You  ex 
pect  Le  Clerc  to-night,  Anne  ? " 

I  knew  that  she  did,  as  she  had  previously  spoken 
to  me  of  it,  and  was,  as  usual  with  her,  greatly  ex 
cited  by  the  expectation  of  any  quite  novel  experi 
ence.  I  had  looked,  as  I  entered,  to  see  what  fresh 
dramatic  setting  there  would  be,  and  had  observed, 
as  Vincent  came  in  after  our  arrival,  a  look  of  mirth 
on  his  telltale  face.  Her  habit  of  slightly  changing 
her  drawing-room  to  suit  her  sense  of  the  fitness  of 
things  was  well  known  to  all  of  us.  It  was  purely  to 
satisfy  herself,  and  was  without  the  least  affectation. 
I  understood  at  a  glance.  Le  Clerc  was  to  talk  about 
things  mystical.  The  mise  en  scene  was  at  times  elab 
orate,  as  I  had  once  occasion  to  observe,  and  have 
elsewhere  stated.  To-night  it  was  simple. 

Years  before  St.  Clair  had  sent  from  Japan  two 
historically  famous  balls  of  crystal.  These  were  well 
known  in  Japan  as  the  Rock  of  Remembrance  and  the 


92  DR.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

Rock  of  Reflection.  They  were  fully  ten  inches  in 
diameter.  One  was  of  smoky  quartz ;  the  other  was 
a  crystal  sphere  of  delicate  rose-color.  When  these 
reached  Clayborne  with  a  parlous  bill,  he  paid  with  a 
groan,  and  sent  them  to  Anne  Vincent. 

And  now  the  Rock  of  Reflection  lay  to  the  left  of 
the  blazing  hearth,  on  a  cushion  of  fawn-tinted  vel 
vet,  and  was  glowing  like  a  glorious,  ruddy  moon, 
mysteriously  beautiful.  Midway  in  the  room  stood 
a  small,  round  Chippendale  table  of  dark  mahogany. 
It  was  an  unusual  bit  of  furniture,  because  the  rim 
was  a  narrow  edge  of  silver.  This  table  commonly 
held  the  roses  Anne  Vincent  loved  so  well.  On  this 
occasion  there  was  a  shallow  dish  of  pearl-gray  china, 
and  afloat  in  it  half  a  dozen  water-lilies.  These  were 
wide  open,  as  they  had  no  natural  business  to  be  at 
night,  but,  as  St.  Glair  once  remarked,  flowers  and 
people  did  for  Anne  Vincent  what  they  never  di'd  for 
any  one  else.  Beside  this  dish  was  a  slim  Greek  vase, 
in  which  stood  a  few  grotesque  orchids,  rich  in  color 
and  as  strange  as  gargoyles. 

As  I  stood  admiring  this  suggestive  and,  for  Anne 
Vincent,  quite  moderate  setting,  she  herself,  replying 
to  her  husband's  question,  said : 

"  Yes ;  I  think  I  hear  Mr.  Le  Clerc's  voice  in  the 
hall.  What  a  queer  falsetto !  He  has  promised,  if 
Fred  does  not  object,  that  I  shall  see  a  famous  me 
dium — oh,  not  now,  of  course.77 

"  I  think  it  all  very  silly, v  said  Clayborne. 

"At  least  it  may  amuse  you,"  she  said. 

"  It  will  not,  my  dear  lady.  But  it  may  have  other 
values." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  93 

The  gentleman  who  entered  was  a  tall  man,  slightly 
bent,  a  professor  of  physics,  and  well  known  in  the 
world  of  science.  He  spoke  to  us  in  turn  quietly,  in 
a  sharp  voice  of  unpleasing  tones.  He  apologized  for 
being  late,  and  added  that  he  had  only  a  few  minutes' 
time,  but  had  come  to  place  himself  at  Mrs.  Vincent's 
command. 

Upon  this  we  fell  to  talking  about  spiritualism, 
mind-reading,  and  the  like.  At  last  Vincent  said : 
"  Le  Clerc,  you  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  these  mat 
ters.  Is  there  any  one  thing  among  them  of  which 
you  are  sure  ? " 

He  replied  with  evident  caution :  "  I  think  I  have 
seen  a  man  read  cards  which  he  could  not  see.  Thus, 
if  you  chose  a  card  from  a  new  pack,  and  held  it  up 
so  that  he  saw  only  the  back  of  your  hand,  and  you 
the  face  of  the  card,  he  was  often  successful  in  nam 
ing  the  card.  I  cannot  see  how  he  could  have  tricked 
me,  and  in  justice  I  should  add  that  I  have  done  it 
myself,  but  not  nearly  as  well  as  he.  He  professed  to 
be  able  to  name  also  any  card  I  had  in  mind.  In 
this  he  was  less  fortunate." 

"  Let  me  say  something,  Mr.  Le  Clerc,"  said  I. 
"  This  is  an  exhibition  of  so-called  telepathy  in  its 
simplest  form.  Suppose  we  admit  its  truth.  What 
one  man  can  do  must  represent  a  power  possessed  in 
some  degree  by  all  men.  It  may  be  small  in  most 
men,  or  in  abeyance.  It  must  be  in  the  mass  of  men 
a  quality,  a  capacity,  on  the  way  to  fuller  develop 
ment.  All  our  abilities,  all  sensual  perceptivity,  must 
have  gone  through  endless  ranges  of  acuteness,  and 
always,  in  their  evolution,  certain  persons  must  have 


94  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

had  this  or  that  sense  in  a  larger  degree  than  the  less- 
developed  mass  of  their  fellows." 

"  If  we  accept  the  fact  as  stated,  that  seems  reason 
able,"  said  Clayborne,  "  but  in  the  cases  you  mention 
the  organ  of  sense  existed.  It  was  recognizable. 
What  is  the  mechanism  in  this  present  case  ?  Where 
or  what  is  the  new  sense  thus  used!  For  it  is 
through  the  senses  alone  that  we  get  news  from 
without." 

"  Who  can  guess  ?  "  said  Le  Clerc.  "  There  are 
many  parts  of  the  brain  to  which  we  assign  no  func 
tion.  I  am  not  sufficiently  sure  of  the  facts  to  go 
further." 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Vincent,  "  how  you  do  this 
thing?" 

"  I  do  not.  I  am  rarely  fortunate ;  at  times  I  fail 
entirely.  This  makes  it  hard  to  condition,  and  thus 
unlike  the  facts  of  outside  nature.  I  have  given  up 
its  study  for  this  reason,  and,  too,  because  it  affects 
me  disagreeably." 

"  Can  you,"  said  my  wife,  "  tell  us  how  you  seemed 
to  do  it  ?  It  cannot  be  chance." 

"  No,"  said  Clayborne,  decisively. 

"  I  seemed  to  see  the  card,"  Le  Clerc  said.  "  It 
looked  larger  than  the  real  card.  Once  I  stated  the 
number,  but  was  unable  to  tell  the  color.  It  requires 
a  certain  amount  of  time.  I  cannot  succeed  if  the 
person  who  holds  the  card  does  not  know  the  card 
and  does  not  think  of  it.  In  fact,  most  of  the  larger 
pretensions  as  to  this  matter  break  down  under  se 
vere  tests,  and  I  am  still  in  doubt." 

"  I  have,"  said  I,  "  at  times  suspected  myself  of 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  95 

having  a  certain  amount  of  capacity  to  know  what 
people  are  thinking.  It  may  have  been  that  I  was 
mistaken." 

"  For  my  part,"  said  St.  Clair,  "  I  hope  it  will  re 
main  an  undeveloped  capacity.  To  read  at  will  the 
minds  even  of  those  we  love  would  be  disastrous  to 
happiness." 

"  Or  at  times  quite  the  reverse,"  said  my  wife. 

"  But,"  returned  St.  Clair,  "  imagine  a  world  from 
which  speech  was  gone,  and  where  this  power  had  be 
come  universal.  To  lie  would  be  impossible.  The 
whole  fabric  of  civilization  would  crumble ;  war  would 
be  impossible,  love  a  farce." 

"  Even  nonsense  may  suggest  thought,"  said  Clay- 
borne,  who  was  apt  to  take  St.  Clair  literally.  "  In 
dividual  capacity  to  conceal  thought  is  an  essential 
of  civilized  life.  The  savage  conceals  nothing.  This 
would  be  retrogression.  The  barbarian  is  willingly 
open-minded.  We  should  be  self-revealed  unwill 
ingly." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Vincent,  "  this  power,  if  it  be  one, 
is,  as  we  assume  to  have  it,  an  abnormal  thing,  like  those 
excessive  attributes  of  the  senses  acquired  in  disease." 

"  But,"  said  Clayborne,  "  this  other  could  not  be 
any  excess  of  a  sense  known  to  us.  It  must  be  a 
radically  different  sense." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Vincent,  "  you  are  right.  Nor  have 
I  any,  even  the  dimmest,  consciousness  of  any  unused 
power  to  apprehend  another's  thought.  Owen  North 
may  have.  He  said  so." 

"  Oh,"  cried  my  wife,  "  but  I  do  not  think  Owen  is 
in  the  least  abnormal." 


96  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

At  this  we  laughed,  Le  Clerc  also  declining  to  be 
thus  classed. 

"  At  all  events,"  said  Clayborne,  "  no  possible  good 
can  come  of  these  investigations.  If  taken  seriously, 
their  study  should  be  in  hands  which  are  competent 
for  the  work.  Few  are.  The  mere  man  of  science, 
the  physicist,— horrid  word,— has  been  endlessly 
fooled  by  the  trickery  of  so-called  spiritualists.  As 
Le  Clerc  has  said,— I  think  you  said  that,— one  cannot 
condition  the  facts." 

"  Hysterical  and  hypnotic  telepathy,"  said  I,  "  have 
repeatedly  taken  in  some  of  the  ablest  of  my  profes 
sion.  The  study  may  some  day  be  more  fortunate. 
Now  men  in  general  get  no  good,  and  often  harm, 
out  of  attempts  along  the  lines  of  these  too  vague 
phenomena." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  such  small  facts  as 
we  have  just  now  heard  do  give  one  a  sense  of  the 
possibility  of  mind  directly  communicating  with 
mind,  and  so  of  the  possibility  of  our  minds  being 
affected  by  those  who,  being  dead,  speak  no  more  the 
ordinary  tongue  of  man." 

"  No,"  said  Clayborne,  "  that  by  no  means  follows. 
You  infer  too  much." 

"  Let  us  then  wholesomely  stop  here,"  said  I ;  "  I  quite 
decline  a  plunge  into  the  idiotic  chaos  of  spiritualism." 

"  He,"  said  Clayborne,  "  who  needs  that  help  to  faith 
must  strangely  want  the  power  to  read  aright  his  own 
nature  and  the  great  world." 

This  was  gravely  said  by  Clayborne,  and  was  one 
of  the  frank  statements  of  his  calmly  held  beliefs 
to  which  we  rarely  heard  him  commit  himself. 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  97 

Said  Le  Clerc :  "  I  busied  myself  once  with  many 
of  these  phenomena.  Some  I  thought  at  one  time 
honest  facts  ;  others  mere  obvious  trickery.  I  gave  it 
all  up,  and  came  to  see  that  some,  even  of  the  ablest 
and  most  honest  of  the  men  given  over  to  these 
pursuits,  got  at  last  into  a  condition  of  utter  inca 
pacity  to  disbelieve  things  which  were  clearly  absurd, 
such  as  the  so-called  materialization  of  spirits." 

"  If,"  said  I,  "  it  be  full  of  pitfalls  for  men  of  intel 
lect,  it  is  a  slough  of  mental  disaster  for  feebler 
minds.  I  have  seen  in  the  followers  of  these  ways 
much  sad  disorder  of  mind." 

"  I  have  a  very  mild  desire,"  said  Clayborne,  "  to 
see  once  a  spiritual  display— seance,  they  call  it,  I 
think." 

"Listen,  Fred,"  cried  Mrs.  Vincent;  "even  Mr. 
Clayborne  shares  my  curiosity." 

"I  am  sorry  for  him,  Anne.  I  shall  not  stand  in 
your  way,  but  let  it  be  once,  and  only  once." 

"I  could  arrange  for  it,"  said  Le  Clerc.  "I  gave 
up  all  personal  interest  in  this  matter  long  ago,  but  I 
know  many  of  these  people." 

"  I  should  like,"  said  my  wife,  "  that  we  should  be 
unknown  to  the  medium." 

"  That  is  easily  managed,"  said  Le  Clerc. 

Like  Vincent,  I  rather  strongly  objected  to  this 
folly.  I  agreed,  however,  that  we  would  be  present, 
and  predicted  that  one  sitting  would  satisfy  all  con 
cerned.  The  famous  Seybert  commission  was  enough 
for  me.  Its  report  is  as  amusing  as  a  volume  of 
"  Punch,"  and  more  instructive. 

"I  will  see  about  it,"  said  Le  Clerc,  "and  now  I 


98  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

must  go.  I  called  merely  to  know  what  Mrs.  Vin 
cent  wanted." 

As  we,  too,  were  about  to  leave,  I  said  to  Vincent : 
"  I  have  had  a  visit  from  Xerxes  Crofter,  my  Western 
railway  brigand.  You  will  grieve  to  hear  that  he  is 
still  entirely  well.  After  a  noble  career  of  destruction 
in  the  West  he  moved  to  New  York.  He  is  here  just 
now,  to  my  amusement,  to  see  Clayborne,  who,  as  you 
know,  owns  a  coal-mine  in  Ohio,  and  a  little  branch 
road,  which  is  a  feeder  of  Xerxes's  great  railway  sys 
tem.  Clayborne  thinks  the  rates  on  the  main  line  ex 
cessive,  and  threatens  a  big  fight.  When  Xerxes 
heard  that  Clayborne  was  my  friend,  he  came  hither 
to  have  a  talk  with  him.  Both  are  rather  cross,  and 
Clayborne  happy  over  the  imminence  of  a  row." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  that  robber,"  said  Vincent, 
"  but  not  in  my  own  house.  Probably  Clayborne  will 
ask  me  to  be  present  at  their  conference.  One  would 
like,  Owen,  to  talk  frankly  with  a  man  who  has  stolen 
fifty  millions." 

"  It  may  be  possible  with  Crofter.  He  is  a  man  with 
no  end  of  bad  qualities,  and  an  underlying  stratum 
of  something  better." 

"  That  of  course,"  returned  Vincent.  "  The  giants 
of  criminal  finance  are  rarely  without  some  fractional 
capacity  to  imitate  their  betters.  That  is  no  real 
gain.  Men  wholly  bad  are  less  dangerous." 

"Well,  you  will  be  interested.  That  I  promise. 
The  man  has  learned  many  things  since  I  first  saw 
him.  I  think  I  said  that  Clayborne  has  asked  him  to 
dinner." 

"  Yes,  it  does  not  surprise  me.     He  would  ask  a 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  99 

murderer  if  he  wanted  to  study  him.  He  has  none 
of  our  feeling  as  to  the  social  sacredness  of  the  act  of 
feeding.  After  it  he  will  be  as  remorseless  in  his 
dealings  with  this  potential  scamp  as  if  he  had  never 
given  him  of  his  salt.  Your  wife  is  waiting.  By-by ! " 


VI 


|HE  next  day  I  saw  Xerxes.  Three  years 
of  the  life  of  what  he  at  first  called  the 
"  meetropolis,"  and  the  vigor  of  reac- 
quired  health,  together  with  another 
influence,  had  wrought  notable  changes 
in  the  outer  ways,  dress,  and  language  of  the  great 
railroad-wrecker.  He  still  had  the  look  of  animal 
power.  The  ursine  appearance  of  awkward  strength 
was  still  present ;  the  huge  hands,  the  strong,  promi 
nent  muscles  of  the  jaw,  like  those  of  the  Bona- 
partes,  the  rolling  walk  of  the  plantigrade,  all  were 
as  before.  Vincent  remarked  later  that  he  must 
always  have  been  a  person  of  varied  and  unexpectable 
capabilities,  and  even  of  undeveloped  tastes.  Cour 
ageous  in  action,  outspoken  rather  than  frank,  lavish 
rather  than  generous,  at  times  amazingly  impulsive, 
he  was,  beneath  all,  the  wild  beast  of  the  jungles  of 
finance,  strong,  adroit,  and  merciless.  "  He  has  also 
the  Christianity  of  humor,"  said  St.  Clair,  at  a  still 
later  date,  "  and  that,"  observed  the  poet,  "  does  pre 
vent  a  man  from  being  consistently  inhuman."  This 
queer  comment  set  me  to  thinking  whether  the  great 
criminal  natures  I  had  met  in  my  time  were  ever  en 
dowed  with  this  quality  of  humor., 

Mr.  Xerxes  Crofter  came  into  my  library  at  morn 
ing,  and  before  accepting  a  seat,  set  his  huge  hands 

100 


DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  F.RIENDS  101 

on  the  table  and  stood  still.  I  rose  and  said :  "  Good 
morning.  Sit  down." 

Without  returning  my  salutation,  he  said :  "  Can't 
do  it,  doctor;  got  to  meet  some  railroad  men.  I 
came  here  to  talk  with  your  friend  Clayborne.  He 
says  I  must  dine  with  him  to-morrow;  afterward 
he  will  see  about  it.  That  is  n't  business.  I  came 
here  to  get  the  better  of  him  about  a  coal  deal." 
Here  he  paused. 

"Well?  "said  I. 

"  Confound  it !  Where  I  was  born  you  can't  shoot 
a  man  in  his  own  cabin.  He  won't  talk  business  at 
table,  I  guess  ?  " 

"  No,  certainly  not.     Rest  at  ease  about  that." 

11  But  after  I  feed  and  drink  his  champagne  he  will 
know  all  about  me.  When  I  eat  and  drink  1 'm  a 
rather  loose-languaged  sort  of  man.  Now  he  can't 
judge  my  hand." 

"  But  you  will  know  him,  too." 

"  Well,  maybe.  We  won't  play  chess  if  I  know  X. 
Crofter."  He  laughed  as  he  recalled  the  incident  of 
our  first  encounter. 

" I  am  to  dine  with  you,"  said  I ;  "no  one  else." 

"  Good !  Then  you  will  take  care  of  this  innocent 
orphan.  I  forgot  his  lawyer  is  to  dine  with  us,  too, 
a  man  named  Vincent.  I  heard  him  argue  a  case 
once.  He  talked  the  gentlest  you  ever  heard,  but, 
Lord !  when  he  was  through  with  that  man,  and  the 
court  rose,— it  was  in  Arkansas;  the  Supreme  Court, 
you  know,— the  fellow  followed  him  out  on  to  the 
sidewalk.  Joe  Bristed  had  killed  two  or  more,  and 
now  we  all  knew  he  was  red-blood-mad.  Says  he  to 


102  DB.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FBIENBS 

this  Vincent,  '  No  man  can  talk  that  way  about  me 
and  live/  and  with  this  he  drew  a  Colt,  and  folks 
squandered.  Well,  Vincent  he  just  stood  still  with 
his  hands  at  his  sides  and  looked  at  Joe.  All  he  said 
was :  "I  made  it  clear  that  you  are  a  thief.  Now  I 
know  that  you  are  a  coward.'  i  Great  Scott ! '  says 
Joe,  '  you  are  a  brave  man,'  and  he  put  out  his  hand. 
This  Vincent  he  just  took  no  kind  of  notice  of  him, 
and  walked  away  as  cool  as  a  cucumber.  Darned  if 
I  know  why  cucumbers  are  cool." 

"  And  Joe  ?  " 

"  Oh,  says  he,  l  Busted,  boys,'  and  gave  it  up.  I 
want  to  see  that  man.  Ever  tell  you  that  story? 
No?  He  did  n't?  That  's  queer.  It  was  in  the 
papers,  though,  but  the  editor  got  punctuated — full 
stop,  you  know.  Good  joke  that !  Well,  I  just  came 
in  to  show  myself.  I  'm  as  right  as  a  young  grizzly. 
I  suppose  it  is  white  tie  and  full  uniform?  Yes? 
Good-by." 

I  drove  Vincent  out  next  day  to  this  singular  din 
ner-party.  On  the  way  we  talked  over  my  Western 
patient. 

"  He  has  ruined  many  better  men,"  said  Vincent, 
"  and  now  he  has  quit  plundering  and  retired  from 
brigandage  with  some  incredible  amount  of  plunder. 
He  has  corrupted  courts,  bought  legislation,  bribed 
men,  and  caused  tears  enough  to  drown  him.  And  his 
grandchildren  may  marry  yours.  Success  covers  a 
multitude  of  sins.  And  this  devil  goes  to  church,— 
meeting,  my  wife  would  say, — and  some  of  the 
preachers  fawn  at  his  feet.  I  should  like  to  talk 
frankly  with  a  man  like  this  man." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  103 

"  It  might,  it  may,  be  entirely  possible.  I  think  I 
have  already  said  so." 

"I  cannot  see,  Owen,  how  one  could  do  it.  I 
mean  talk  frankly.  How  surely  our  manners  protect 
a  man  from  the  shafts  of  social  opinion,  and  how 
easily  we  in  America  condone  or  forget  the  crimes  of 
finance !  In  England  one  slip  as  to  money  matters 
will  ruin  the  career  of  a  politician.  With  us  it  is 
strangely  passed  over  and  soon  forgotten.  But  let  a 
man  with  us  go  notoriously  wrong  about  women,  and 
he  is  ruined." 

"  Yes,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  in  England  that  sin 
does  not  affect  a  career." 

"  Is  that  due  to  the  vast  influence  of  women  in  our 
national  life  ?  I  do  not  think  they  feel  as  you  or  I 
do,  that  looseness  as  to  money  matters  is  a  more  in 
fluential,  a  more  radical  evil  in  public  life.  The  one 
form  of  crime  personally  appeals  to  them ;  the  other 
does  not." 

"  That  may  be  so." 

"Here  we  are.  I  never  before  dined  with  a  com 
plete  rascal.7' 

"  He  is  sadly  incomplete,  Vincent." 

We  were  twenty  minutes  before  our  time.  Clay- 
borne  was  dressing.  We  walked  into  the  drawing- 
room,  and  at  last,  as  Vincent  wanted  to  look  at  a 
book,  into  the  great  library.  There,  to  my  surprise, 
was  Crofter,  standing  in  front  of  a  replica  of  Stuart's 
"  Washington."  The  Western  man,  too,  was  before 
his  time.  He  turned  as  we  entered,  and  I  introduced 
these  two  most  dissimilar  men. 

Then,  and  later,  I  was  surprised  to  see  how  much 


104  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS 

Crofter  had  changed.  He  was  in  full  evening  dress, 
and  as  to  his  attire  not  otherwise  remarkable  except 
for  a  pair  of  costly  sapphire  shirt-studs.  Except 
when  he  told  some  wild  Western  story,  he  used  far 
better  English  than  he  had  employed  in  the  days  of 
our  earlier  acquaintance.  The  gradual  alteration  puz 
zled  me,  until  I  learned  that  a  well-known  and  clever 
widow  in  New  York  had  undertaken  the  task  of  tam 
ing  and  civilizing  this  sturdy  brute.  She  ended  by 
marrying  him,  and  did  really  effect  such  a  notable 
alteration  in  his  dress,  language,  and  manners  as  is 
possible  only  when  an  intelligent  and  well-bred  lady 
is  resolute  to  influence  an  American  of  Crofter's  type. 
She  was  a  refined  woman,  and,  I  should  add,  was  hon 
estly  in  love  with  my  powerful  grizzly. 

"  That  is  one  of  the  best  replicas  I  ever  saw,"  he 
said.  "  Pity  Stuart  did  not  sign  his  pictures.  I  make 
a  point  of  that  when  I  buy  a  picture.  I  like  it  auto 
graphed." 

"Do  you  think,  Mr.  Crofter,"  said  I,  "  that  this  por 
trait  gives  one  any  idea  of  the  man  Washington  ? " 

"  Now,  that  is  just  the  kind  of  thing  I  should  like  to 
ask  Mr.  Vincent,"  returned  Crofter  j  "  he  knows  men 
and  he  knows  pictures." 

Vincent,  too  much  a  man  of  the  world  to  betray 
himself,  was,  I  knew  well,  resenting  inwardly  this  in 
timate  judgment  as  to  his  qualities  as  a  student  of 
men  and  their  portraits.    But  it  was  scarcely  possible 
not  to  be  interested  by  Crofter.    His  mind  was  vigor 
ous,   his    opinions    bold    and    freshly    original,   his 
mode  of  expression  at  times  uncommon,  but  always 
effective. 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  105 

Vincent  replied :  "  I  think  that  if  we  take  the  man 
Washington  far  on  in  mid-life,  as  now  at  last  we 
know  him,  and  were  to  construct  a  face  to  express 
the  man  and  his  life,  it  would  not  be  the  face  of  such 
a  picture  as  Stuart  drew." 

"  They  ought/7  said  Crofter,  "  to  have  hired  Rey 
nolds  to  have  come  over  and  painted  him ;  and  there 
is  no  great  painting  of  Lincoln." 

"  It  is  one  thing,"  said  I,  "  to  paint  a  man's  face  j 
quite  another  to  paint  on  it  his  character.  Usually, 
in  these  days  of  concealment  and  self-control,  only  a 
part  of  a  man's  nature  gets  written  clearly  on  his  face. 
That  is  the  interest  of  the  sixteenth-century  portraits. 
The  time  unmuzzled  all  passions,  all  personal  qualities. 
It  was  fatal  to  Italy ;  it  was  fortunate  for  the  artist." 

"  I  am  not  sure  you  are  right  as  to  this  portrait," 
said  Crofter.  "  Washington  was  an  out-of-doors  man, 
and  I  do  notice  that  men  who  live  in  the  saddle  and 
under  the  sun  don't  get  their  faces  wrinkle-written 
like  men  that  live  indoors.  You  just  get  a  light 
sketch  of  the  man  on  his  features.  He  don't  draw 
himself  strong.  This  Washington  only  looks  grave 
and  serious.  He  don't  show  for  what  he  went  through. 
And  then  there  's  another  thing.  His  kind  of  bred 
men  don't  scrawl  what  they  are  all  over  their  faces. 
Ever  notice  that,  Mr.  Vincent  ?  Now,  your  face  don't 
give  any  clear  notion  of  what  you  are." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  have,"  said  Vincent,  shortly.  "  I 
was  wondering  what  Washington  would  have  been 
had  he  lived  to-day." 

"  Hard  question  that,"  returned  Crofter.  "  He  cer 
tainly  was  a  large  man.  I  don't  suppose  he  had  the 


106  DR.  NOKTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

outfit  for  our  time.  But  then,  no  time  is  the  boss  of 
a  big  man.  He  was  a  hard,  steady  fighter ;  he  never 
did  have  quiet  horses  to  ride.  Had  a  hard  time  from 
the  start.  His  own  State  did  n't  altogether  want  him. 
He  kept  goin'  to  school  all  his  life.  He  made  himself 
if  ever  a  man  did." 

"  What  you  say  as  to  his  own  State  is  true,"  said 
Clayborne,  coming  up  behind  us  as  we  stood  before 
the  portrait.  "  But  how  did  you  know  that  ? "  The 
scholar  was  as  much  astonished  as  Vincent.  "  What 
the  deuce,"  he  said  later,  "  has  this  fellow  to  do  with 
history  ? "  I  fancy  he  considered  it  disrespectful  to 
the  historic  Muse. 

"  The  planters  did  not  want  him,"  said  Crofter. 
"  Did  you  ever  see  '  Meade's  Diary/  Mr.  Vincent  ?  " 

"Never.    What  of  it?" 

"  I  happened  on  it  last  year.  I  've  taken  to  picking 
up  books  about  the  Revolution.  I  have  time  to  read 
now.  Novels  don't  get  me.  Meade  says  they  wanted 
Colonel  Byrd  of  Westover,  and  declares  that  he  was 
the  bigger  man  of  the  two." 

Vincent,  who  knew  our  history  rarely  well,  said,  "  I 
never  saw  the  diary." 

"  Glad  to  send  it  to  you.  It  was  privately  printed. 
Can't  buy  it." 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself,"  said  Vincent.  He  had 
no  mind  to  be  under  obligations  to  Crofter. 

"  It  is  no  trouble.  There  is  another— oh,  some  au 
tograph  letters.  I  '11  send  them  all." 

I  saw  Vincent's  look  of  annoyance,  and  was  amused. 
He  had,  however,  no  chance  to  defend  himself  further, 
for  at  this  moment  dinner  was  announced. 


VII 


HAVE  always  had  a  fancy  for  the  study 
of  character.  Novel  social  contacts  offer 
fresh  opportunities  for  such  study.  A 
new  situation  becomes  a  laboratory  in 
which  one  may  consider  the  reactions 
of  one  man  upon  another.  If  people  are  diverse,  yet 
positive,  the  results  are  the  more  apt  to  be  distinct 
and  valuable.  Here  were  three  very  definite  people. 
Each  of  them  was  typically  peculiar.  In  the  labora 
tory  certain  agents  which  come  in  contact  chemically 
decline  to  alter  or  to  be  altered,  and  remain  neutrally 
indifferent.  This  idea  was  in  my  mind  as  I  watched 
Vincent  and  Crofter.  The  Western  man  was  of 
gladiatorial  make.  Audacity,  endurance,  and  intelli 
gent  power  were  clearly  to  be  read  on  the  strong- 
featured  face  below  the  wire-like,  resolute  curls  of  his 
abundant  hair.  He  was  now,  as  I  said,  on  guard,  at 
tentive.  Only  once  did  I  note  any  trace  of  the  crude 
society  out  of  which  he  came.  When  Clayborne  gave 
signs  of  leaving  the  table,  Crofter,  who  was  listening 
intently  to  Vincent,  put  out  a  searching  paw,  in  evi 
dent  pursuit  of  the  boarding-house  napkin-ring  of 
youthful  days.  I  was  sure  of  this,  because  he 
had  automatically  folded  and  rolled  up  his  napkin. 
He  shook  it  out  and  cast  it  on  the  table  as  our  host 
rose.  In  contrast  to  Crofter  was  the  refinement  of 

107 


108  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

Vincent's  familiar  face,  with  its  look  of  reserved 
power,  and  its  suggestion  of  sternness  in  mouth  and 
chin.  There  was  a  queer  look  of  innocence  about  the 
large  blue  eyes  of  the  man  of  the  financial  prize-ring, 
but  Vincent's  eyes  of  lucent  gray  possessed  mysteri 
ous  influences  for  those  who  loved,  hated,  or  respected 
this  sensitive  and  high-bred  gentleman.  Would  these 
two  prove  too  socially  neutral?  It  seemed  likely  to 
be  so.  Once  or  twice  I  tried  to  come  in  as  the  third 
reagent,  which  in  a  chemist's  solution  of  inactive 
compounds  has  the  capacity  to  cause  abrupt  and  in 
teresting  interchange  of  the  constituent  elements.  I 
had  no  such  luck. 

The  champagne  was  evidently  to  Crofter's  liking ; 
he  asked  if  it  were  not  a  vintage  wine.  Clayborne, 
who  to  appearance  was  no  more  affected  by  wine  than 
by  beer,  which  was  his  ordinary  drink,  set  his  guest 
a  sad  example.  Crofter  took  of  the  gay  vintage,  as  it 
seemed  to  me,  in  excess.  Perhaps  this  novel  society 
made  him  forget  his  usually  moderate  habits.  In 
fact,  I  had  forbidden  him  to  use  stimulants,  and  he 
had  been  singularly  obedient.  He  talked  well,  and 
at  first  listened  quietly,  but  I  suspect  that  the  in 
creasing  effects  of  our  host's  champagne  may  ac 
count  in  some  degree  for  what  happened  after 
dinner. 

No  word  was  said  as  to  railroads  or  money.  New 
York  had  bored  him  at  first.  Yes,  he  had  had  to  find 
occupation,  and  had  taken  to  buying  pictures,  but 
only  landscapes  or,  now  and  then,  portraits.  Vin 
cent's  taste  was  apparently  well  known  to  Crofter, 
for,  with  his  usual  businesslike  turn,  he  had  employed 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  109 

his  secretary  to  make  a  list  of  notable  private  collec 
tions.  Vincent's  was  not  large,  but  of  remarkable 
interest. 

"  You  have  a  little  Gainsborough  I  bid  on  once," 
said  Crofter.  "  It  was  too  dear.  I  waited.  When  I 
thought  it  would  have  dropped  to  my  notion  of  value, 
I  found  you  had  bought  it.  If  ever  you  feel  like 
selling  it,  I  won't  stand  on  price." 

I  saw  Vincent  stiffen  himself  a  little.  "  Thank 
you,"  he  said.  "  Mrs.  Vincent  gave  it  to  me.  I,  too, 
thought  it  rather  dear." 

"Now,"  said  Crofter,  "is  n't  that  just  like  a 
woman?  You  wanted  it,  and  she  never  thought  of 
the  price."  The  faintest  possible  flush  came  out  on 
my  friend's  cheeks.  "How  much  did  she  give  for 
it  ? "  added  Xerxes. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Vincent. 

"  Might  guess,"  said  Crofter. 

I  began  to  suspect,  as  I  listened,  that  the  wine  was 
already  beginning  to  disturb  Crofter's  too  recently 
acquired  respect  for  the  decencies  of  social  life. 

"  When  can  I  see  your  pictures  ? "  he  asked. 

"I  can  hardly  say,"  returned  Vincent.  "I  am 
going  to  try  a  case  in  Pittsburg  to-morrow." 

"Perhaps  Mrs.  Vincent  will  be  so  kind  as  to  let 
me  see  them."  My  man  was,  in  little  as  in  big  things, 
persistent. 

Clayborne,  satisfied  as  long  as  the  talk  kept  alive, 
listened,  but  was  quite  outside  of  the  game.  He  was 
very  much  attached  to  Vincent,  but  never  fully  under 
stood  him. 

When   Crofter   said   that   perhaps    Mrs.   Vincent 


110  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

would  gratify  his  wish,  Vincent  replied,  "  I  will  ask 
Mrs.  Vincent.'7 

But  now  it  dawned  upon  the  man  that  somehow  he 
was,  as  he  would  have  said,  being  shunted.  His  edu 
cation  in  feminine  hands  had  progressed  far  enough 
to  enable  him  to  be  dimly  conscious  of  his  social  mis 
takes,  even  when  he  was  unable  to  understand  fully 
how  he  had  blundered.  He  said  at  once :  "  I  won't 
trouble  her,  I  guess;  perhaps  sometime  I  may  be 
more  lucky.  Come  and  see  my  pictures  when  you 
have  an  idle  hour  in  New  York." 

I  read  in  Vincent's  face  a  danger-signal,  but  he  re 
turned  quietly,  "I  shall  hope  to  have  the  pleasure. 
And,  by  the  way,  Clayborne,"  he  said,  turning  to  our 
host,  "  have  you  decided  where  to  put  the  vase  ?  " 

After  this  the  talk  wandered  as  we  discussed  sport, 
salmon-fishing,  and  the  like.  Crofter  found  the  win 
ters  in  New  York  rather  tedious.  "  As  long  as  a  man 
can  kill  things  he  can  get  on ;  but  war  and  gambling 
are  the  two  things  best  worth  doing  for  real  excite 
ment,  and,  after  all,  war  is  just  a  big  kind  of  bet. 
Was  in  it  awhile  as  a  commissary  officer." 

" Then  you  saw  no  fighting?"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  did  n't  I  ?  The  last  year  I  got  into  the  artil 
lery.  The  fact  is,  I  like  excitement,  danger.  I  guess 
you  do  too,  Mr.  Vincent." 

He  did,  as  I  well  knew. 

"Yes,"  said  Vincent;  "I  have  that  folly." 

"  Thought  so.  An  artillery  duel,  or  poker  for  large 
stakes  when  you  have  no  money,  are  the  two  finest 
things  I  know— well,  the  best  worth  doing." 

Vincent  smiled,  conscious  that  the  guest  was,  as  he 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  111 

himself  would  have  said,  on  a  down  grade,  and  the 
brakes  out  of  order.  I  said  that  I  hated  war,  and 
then  spoke  of  the  wearisome  life  of  the  camps,  upon 
which  Clayborne  remarked  that  he  had  never  been 
conscious  of  the  thing  for  which  we  have  no  word, 
ennui. 

"Indeed/1  said  Crofter,  "is  that  so?  As  long  as  I 
can  gamble  I  am  never  bored." 

"I  myself  never  could  see  the  charm  of  uncer 
tainty/7  said  Clayborne,  "  and  for  many  reasons  I  dis 
like  gambling." 

"  Yes/'  said  Crofter ;  "  one  is,  you  Ve  got  to  pay 
up.  But  what  about  chess,  doctor?"  There  was  a 
gleam  of  amusement  in  the  rugged  face. 

"  Hush,  hush !  "  said  I,  laughing.  "  That  is  for 
bidden  ground." 

"  Ah,  I  see.  All  right.  Did  I  ever  tell  you  what 
came  of  your  advice  to  teach  my  big  Irishman 
poker?" 

"  No,"  said  I,  glad  to  turn  the  talk,  for  none  of  my 
friends  had  heard  from  me  of  that  famous  game  of 
chess  in  which  I  had  won  back  my  railroad  stock. 

"What  was  it?"  said  Vincent,  quick  to  note  my 
slight  embarrassment. 

"Well,  when  you  told  me  to  go  to  bed  for  two 
months,  I  did.  When  you  saw  me  again,  you  remem 
ber,  I  asked  you  what  on  earth  I  was  to  do  to  amuse 
myself.  You  see,  Mr.  Vincent,  every  night  I  lost  or 
won  at  the  club  a  hundred  dollars  or  so,  and  that 
was  about  my  entire  amusement.  In  comes  the  doc 
tor,  and  says  he,  i  Teach  Mickey  Maguire  to  play 
poker.'  Mickey  was  my  nurse,  and  a  good  one,  too." 


112  DE.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS 

"'What  for?'  says  I. 

"  *  Watermelon-seeds/  says  you. 

"Well,  I  did.  Mickey  was  an  old  army  orderly, 
and  he  took  to  poker  natural,  like  a  young  mule  takes 
to  kickin'.  After  a  bit  it  got  monotonous.  So  then 
I  gave  Mickey  a  thousand  dollars  to  gamble  with.  This 
time  there  was  some  fun  in  it.  I  cleaned  out  Mickey 
in  a  week— money,  wages,  and  all,  down  to  his  tooth 
brush.  When  he  lost  that  I  lent  him  fifty  dollars.  By 
this  time  Mickey  had  got  his  education.  In  a  month 
he  had  it  all  back,  and  three  thousand  besides.  Then 
Mrs.  Mickey  sailed  in  and  took  it  away,  and  put  it 
in  the  bank,  and  there  was  Mick  cleaned  out  again. 
Mrs.  Mick  said  if  he  ever  gambled  any  more  she 
would  get  a  divorce.  About  this  time  I  was  up  and 
well,  so  I  put  Mick  to  work  to  superintend  a  mine  in 
Montana." 

"  Did  he  do  it  well  ?  "  said  Clay  borne,  much  amused. 

"  Well,  I  guess  so.  A  man  that  can  play  poker 
like  Mickey  can  do  anything.  Life  's  only  a  big  gam 
ble,  gentlemen,  and  all  its  insides  are  little  gambles. 
Marriage  is  the  worst." 

On  this  we  rose,  laughing,  and  followed  Clayborne 
into  the  library.  Vincent,  lingering  behind,  whis 
pered  :  "  That  fellow's  cure  must  sit  heavy  on  your 
conscience,  Owen.  I  wish  Mrs.  Vincent  had  heard 
the  talk,  but  I  shall  never  tell  her,  never.  She  has 
no  social  morals  fit  to  stand  up  against  her  curiosity. 
She  would  insist  on  seeing  him." 

"I  think  that  likely.  I  suspect,  Fred,  that  our 
grizzly  has  begun  to  feel  the  large  liberty  of  wine." 

"  Yes,  very  clearly.     Ah,  there  is  St.  Clair." 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  113 

At  all  times  at  home  with  any  of  us,  and  especially 
with  Clayborne,  St.  Clair  might  chance  to  come  in  on 
a  formal  dinner,  at  bedtime,  or  at  breakfast.  He 
had  walked  out  in  the  dusk  of  evening,  and  now  lay 
at  easy  length  on  a  lounge.  He  rose  as  we  entered. 

"  Mr.  Crofter,  Mr.  St.  Clair." 

I  saw  St.  Clair  shrink  and  lift  one  foot  a  little  as 
the  broad  paw  of  Xerxes  closed  on  his  hand.  The 
grip  was  meant  to  emphasize  the  satisfaction  the 
Western  man  felt. 

"I  am  very  pleased  to  see  you,  Mr.  St.  Clair.  I 
bought  that  '  Diana  >  of  yours  from  Overton." 

St.  Clair  liked  all  forms  of  praise. 

"  I  hope  she  will  not  move  again." 

"No,  sir;  she  is  one  of  the  family." 

"  Will  you  have  a  cigar  ? "  asked  our  host,  and  we 
fell  into  chairs  about  the  fire. 

"  Tell  you  about  Diana.  My  old  aunt  came  on  last 
week.  She  nearly  fell  down  when  she  saw  Mrs. 
Diana  in  the  hall.  She  gave  me  a  fine  rating  for  in 
decency.  By  George !  when  I  came  down  to  break 
fast  the  next  day  I  found  she  had  tied  a  red  flannel 
petticoat  around  the  lady's  waist.  'Most  killed  my 
English  butler.  Never  knew  him  to  grin  before  or 
since." 

"  I  know  of  several  statues  which  would  be  the 
better  for  clothes,"  said  St.  Clair,  laughing  gaily. 

"It  was  comical,"  returned  Crofter;  "I  compro 
mised  on  a  screen  while  she  stayed." 

"I  should  have  liked  to  have  seen  Diana  in  petti 
coats,"  said  I. 

St.  Clair  sat  still,  smoking  like  Vesuvius,  and  un- 


114  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

usually  silent,  both  sure  signs  of  rising  mischief.  I 
saw  that  he  was  vexed  as  well  as  amused;  but  I 
could  not  imagine  why  he  was  angry.  He  was  now 
chewing  the  end  of  his  mustache ;  that,  too,  meant  a 
change  of  weather.  I  made  up  my  mind  that  here 
was  the  reagent  needed  to  disturb  this  solution  of 
neutral  elements.  I  was  not  mistaken.  St.  Glair,  I 
ought  to  add,  knew  very  little  of  Crofter,  or  of  the 
vastness  of  the  booty  which  was  now  safely  invested. 

"I  see,"  said  Clayborne,  "  that  Lawton  has  bought 
Millet's  '  Sheepf  old.'  I  wanted  it,  but  thirty  thousand 
was  more  than  I  could  compass." 

Now,  Lawton  was  another  of  the  fellows  who  had 
thriven  on  corruption,  and  was  well  known  by  repu 
tation  to  all  of  us.  St.  Clair  sat  up. 

"  Damn  such  people  !  They  have  no  right  to  own 
honest  pictures." 

Crofter  smiled.  "  Lawton  was  once  a  partner  of 
mine/'  he  said  in  an  unconcerned  way. 

I  saw  Clayborne  look  warningly  at  the  poet.  It 
was  of  small  use.  St.  Clair  went  on : 

"  I  had  heard  as  much,  and  I  am  sorry  for  you. 
Perhaps  you  know  how  the  deuce  a  fellow  like  that 
settles  things  with  his  conscience.  I  do  awful  things 
myself,  as  Clayborne  will  tell  you,  but  then  I  have 
abominable  hours  of  negotiation  with  a  certain  change 
less,  implacable  clearing-house." 

"  Conscience,  I  suppose,"  said  Crofter,  who  was 
now  too  plainly  set  free  from  the  finer  restraints 
which  govern  social  intercourse.  "  What  the  thunder 
is  conscience  ?  " 

Vincent  looked  at  St.  Clair  and  then  at  me.    It 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  115 

was  as  much  as  to  say :  "  He  is  off.  Who  can  stop 
him  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  large  question,"  said  our  host.  "  What 
is  conscience?" 

"  It  may  have  varieties,"  said  Crofter. 

St.  Clair  took  no  notice  of  this.  "  How  can  an 
honest  gentleman  comprehend  a  fellow  like  Lawton  ? 
I  wonder  if  he  ever  thinks  of  the  misery  he  causes. 
I  know  one  good  old  fellow,  yes,  and  another,  hard 
working  artists.  Both  lost  all  their  small  savings  by 
that  man's  rascally  schemes." 

St.  Clair  was  off  indeed.  Three  of  us  were  struck 
silent  for  a  moment.  Crofter,  although  instantly  con 
scious  of  an  awkward  situation,  was,  as  always,  bold 
and  outspoken.  He  sat  up,  laid  his  cigar  on  the  edge 
of  the  table,  and  said :  "  Mr.  St.  Clair,  I  don't  mind  plain 
talk,  and  I  don't  shirk.  If  Lawton  is  a  bad  man,  so 
am  I ;  but  just  you  listen.  Railroads  get  built  where 
there  is  n't  trade  to  run  them.  They  go  to  bits.  The 
stock  don't  pay,  the  bonds  don't  pay.  Then  a  man 
buys  the  bonds  and  sells  out  the  road,  well,  practi 
cally  to  himself.  I  want  to  face  it  square.  Oh,  you 
hold  on  a  bit.  I  know.  Maybe  he  juggles  with  the 
bonds  in  big  lots,  knocks  'em  down,  and  then  comes 
in.  Of  course  there  are  other  ways." 

"  And  worse,"  said  Vincent,  calmly,  and  to  my  sur 
prise.  "  Also  there  are  other  modes  of  saving  a  bank 
rupt  property.  I  did  not  bring  on  this  discussion, 
and  I  am  far  from  desiring  to  annoy  you,  Mr.  Crofter. 
But  the  case  of  innocent  people  thus  ruined  does  ap 
peal  to  me.  The  many  suffer.  One  man,  or  a  syndi 
cate,  becomes  rich.  It  seems  hard." 


116  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  It  is.  But  where  does  war  leave  the  women  and 
children  ? " 

"  At  least  we  pension  them,"  said  St.  Clair. 

I  saw  Crofter's  face  set  in  stern  anger.  "  Then  get 
all  the  fools  pensioned.  The  men  who  kill  don't  pay 
the  bill.  Some  other  million  of  idiots  does  that. 
What  you  overnice  people  call  conscience  never  made 
a  great  country.  It 's  men  that  are  like  glaciers  do 
that,  men  that  just  move  and  move,  sir,  and  crush 
whatever  comes  in  their  way." 

The  wine  had  told  at  last. 

During  this  astounding  statement  I  saw  that  St. 
Clair  was  becoming  more  and  more  moved.  He  threw 
away  his  cigar  and  stood  up  before  the  fire.  My  social 
chemistry  seemed  to  me  about  to  result  in  a  disastrous 
explosion.  Clayborne  sat  sternly  silent,  not  liking  it, 
but  not  seeing  how  to  interfere ;  perhaps  not  caring 
greatly. 

"  You  are  frank,"  said  Vincent,  in  his  most  quiet 
way.  "  If  I  do  not  answer  you  it  is  because  I  cannot, 
here.  If  I  do  not  it  is  not  because  there  is  no 
answer." 

"  Oh,  but  I  sha'n't  mind  it." 

"  Possibly  not,  but  I  should." 

"  There  is  an  answer.  The  answer,"  said  St.  Clair, 
recklessly,  as  he  rose  to  his  feet,  "  is  that  there  are 
men  of  business  who  can  conduct  affairs  with  honor 
and  justice.  The  answer  is  that  there  are  equitable 
means  of  restoring  wrecked  roads.  The  consequences 
for  such  hard-hearted  wreckers  as  Lawton  are  the 
contempt  and  disgust  of  gentlemen,  yes,  of  every 
honest  man." 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  117 

Clay  borne  was  also  standing.  "  St.  Glair,"  he  said, 
"you  forget  you  are  in  my  house,  and  that  you  are 
talking  to  a  guest." 

"  Then  why  the  devil  do  you  insult  your  house  with 
a  man  like  that  ?  Good  night "  j  and  he  left  the  room 
in  angry  haste. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Clayborne,  turning  to  Crofter. 

"Oh,  you  need  not  be  sorry.  I  brought  it  on  my 
self,  and  I  assure  you,  sir,  I  don't  mind  it.  It  's  all 
been  in  the  papers  dozens  of  times,  the  same  kind  of 
thing.  It  does  n't  disturb  me  nowadays.  I  threaten 
a  little  loss  of  advertisement,  and  down  comes  Mr. 
Editor.  One  kind  of  man  just  slavers  and  excuses. 
I  am  not  that  kind.  I  like  the  young  man,  too.  I 
had  a  mind  to  have  him  try  his  hand  on  a  bust  of  me." 

"  He  will  no  doubt  be  pleased,"  said  Vincent,  with 
a  glance  of  amusement  at  me. 

Clayborne,  delighted  to  be  clear  of  an  unpleasant 
ness,  added  cautiously,  "  He  is  very  busy  just  now." 

"Well,  I  think  I  can  make  him  see  his  way  to  find 
time." 

Upon  this  Vincent  rose,  and  with  a  word  or  two  as 
to  the  address  of  St.  Glair's  studio,  which  Crofter  had 
asked  for,  they  went  out  to  the  carriage.  Here  Crof 
ter  turned  back. 

"  A  word  with  you,  Mr.  Clayborne,"  he  said. 

"  Certainly ;  what  is  it  ? " 

"  Write  me  what  rates  you  want  on  your  coal.  I 
shall  accept  them." 

Clayborne  was  not  well  pleased.  He  was  agreeably 
considering  the  delights  of  a  long  battle  with  this 
devouring  octopus. 


118  DR.   NOETH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  I  shall  be  greedy/7  he  said. 

"No,  you  won't.  Anyhow,  I  shall  stand  by  my 
word ;  I  never  broke  it  in  my  life." 

"  Very  good ;  I  will  write  to  you." 

In  the  carriage  there  was  silence.  At  last  Crofter 
said  abruptly :  "  Confound  that  young  fellow !  He  's 
an  interesting  fool." 

"  Pardon  me,  he  is  my  friend,"  said  Vincent. 

"  Friend !  You  are  lucky.  I  have  n't  a  friend  in 
the  world.  There  are  people  who  do  what  I  want, 
and  people  who  won't  until  they  have  to." 

Vincent  remained  silent.  Then  the  other  added : 
"  You  and  Clayborne  are  men  of  the  world.  Do  you 
really  think  as  he  does,  now,  honestly  ? " 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Vincent. 

"  Is  that  so  ?  That  young  fellow,  he  is  impulsive, 
kind  of  half  woman ;  but  if — well,  darned  if  I  see 
how  you  run  your  business.  Oh,  here  7s  the  train 
ahead  of  time.  That  's  risky.  If  he  was  on  the  Z. 
and  Q.  he  'd  hear  news  to-morrow." 

The  cars  were  nearly  full,  and,  to  Vincent's  relief, 
they  were  obliged  to  separate. 

I  myself  spent  the  night  at  Holmwood,  and  early 
next  day  I  telegraphed  St.  Clair  that  he  might  expect 
to  see  Crofter.  I  did  not  mention  his  errand.  The 
telegram  lay  a  week  on  the  sculptor's  table  with  un 
answered  invitations  and  what  he  called  "  replicas " 
of  bills.  Crofter,  who  had  been  hammered  into  hard 
ened  indifference  to  the  opinions  of  men,  appeared  at 
my  house  about  ten  the  next  day. 

"  Come  to  say  good-by.  Come  over  soon.  I  want 
a  little  advice.  I  gave  the  whole  business  away 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FBIENDS  119 

last  night.  I  knew  I  M  do  it.  You  might  have 
heard—" 

"  No  ;  Mr.  Clayborne  did  express  his  regrets  at — " 

"  Oh,  I  did  n't  mind.  I  forgot  St.  Glair's  address ; 
let  me  have  it." 

I  did  so,  and  he  left  with  me  curiosity  as  to  a  queer 
encounter. 

It  seems  that  he  soon  after  appeared  at  St.  Glair's 
studio,  and  found  him  at  work. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,"  he  said. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  St.  Glair,  "  I  may  as  well  antici 
pate  what  I  suppose  you  came  here  to  say.  If  you 
have  come  to  get  an  apology,  Mr.  Crofter,  it  is  not  on 
hand.  If  you  feel  insulted,  I  shall  have  much  plea 
sure  in  going  with  you  to  Montana.  There  we  can 
settle  it  in  decent  Western  style." 

"  Guess  my  feelings  ain't  badly  bruised." 

"Indeed?    I  had  hoped— " 

"  Oh,  drop  that.  I  came  to  see  you  about  a  bust  of 
me.  You  may  set  your  own  price  when  you  have 
done  the  job.  Will  you  do  it? " 

"  Where  is  it  to  go  I " 

"  In  the  big  rotunda  of  the  Z.  and  Q.  station." 

"  Good  !  I  will  do  it  if  you  can  give  me  time.  I 
shall  do  it  in  my  friend  Stahl's  studio  in  New  York. 
But  I  must  have  my  own  terms,  and  your  word  that 
it  shall  go  where  you  said." 

"  It  will ;  and  the  terms  not  over  two  thousand." 

u  It  will  be  less." 

"Well,  not  much.  I  don't  care  for  cheap  art.  I 
want  to  say  a  word.  I  was  a  little  set  up  by  your 
friend's  wine  last  night.  I  might  have  held  my 


120  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

tongue  about  Lawton ;  but  that  is  not  my  way.  We 
both  talked  out  our  side  of  the  question.  That  ends 
it  for  me." 

"  Will  next  week  suit  you  ? "  said  St.  Clair. 

"  Yes,"  and  Crofter  went  his  way. 

When,  later,  Crofter  wrote  to  me  that  St.  Clair  was 
to  make  a  bust  of  his  massive  head,  I  was  as  much 
amazed  as  my  knowledge  of  St.  Clair  ever  allowed  me 
to  be. 

When  Vincent's  wife  and  mine  came  to  hear  of  the 
after-dinner  scene  at  Holm  wood,  Mrs.  Vincent  said : 
"  How  very  interesting !  I  wish  I  could  have  heard 
it." 

Mrs.  North  considered  it  disgusting,  but  that  St. 
Clair  was  right.  "  I  suppose,"  she  added,  "  that  you 
call  this  a  self-made  man.  I  am  glad  that  no  one  ever 
heard  of  a  self-made  woman.  And  truly,  when  a  man 
ruins  a  lot  of  people  and  takes  their  bread,  and  retires 
in  safety  to  devour  widows'  substance,  does  he  really 
never  have  a  pang  ?  Why,  Anne,  that  would  kill  me 
or  you." 

"  Yes,  dear ;  but  we  are  you  and  I.  I  do  not  envy 
the  children  of  the  robbers,  Alice." 

"  No  need  to ;  but  a  million  is  very  explanatory,  and 
I  am  of  opinion  that  even  an  indulgent  conscience 
can  be  self-bought.  As  to  the  children  of  these 
wretches,  do  you  fancy  they  ever  think  of  their  pa 
rent  as  sinful  ? " 

"  Probably  not,  dear." 


VIII 

OR  a  while  we  heard  no  more  of  Crofter. 
Time  ran  on  and  brought  us  to  mid 
winter.  Miss  Maywood  had  come  to  be 
regarded  as  a  part  of  our  circle.  Under 
the  tender  and  generally  wise  educational 
influence  of  Anne  Vincent,  she  had  grown  less  shy, 
but  without  loss  of  her  charm  of  artless  conversation. 
It  said  much  for  the  spiritual  beauty  of  her  face  that 
at  last,  for  us  at  least,  the  less  perfect  framework  of 
the  body  was  quite  forgotten. 

How  St.  Clair  made  his  peace  with  the  master  of 
Holmwood  I  do  not  know.  I  suspect  that  the  big 
scholar  said  he  was  much  obliged  to  him,  and  that  St. 
Clair  smiled  sweetly,  and  said,  "  Was  n't  it  jolly?"  I 
know  also  that  Clayborne  took  no  pains  to  conciliate 
Crofter ;  nevertheless,  Xerxes  stood  firmly  by  his 
word. 

"And  makes  quite  enough  out  of  my  coal,"  said 
Clayborne.  "I  would  much  rather  have  fought  it 
out.  Now  he  thinks  he  has  obliged  me.  Blank 
him ! " 

This  was  said  on  one  of  our  precious  Sunday  nights 
at  Vincent's.  My  wife  and  I  came  early.  On  great 
occasions  the  room  was  apt  to  be  rearranged,  as  I  have 
said  before,  to  suit  Mrs.  Anne's  view  of  the  fitness  of 
things.  Now,  as  always,  there  were  flowers,  but  never 

121 


122  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

in  careless  excess.  A  few  perfect  roses  in  a  Spanish 
vase  were  set  on  a  table  which  was  covered  with  a 
square  of  dark-green  and  gold  brocade.  Here  they 
were  allowed,  as  they  opened  into  fullness  of  bloom, 
to  let  fall  their  petals.  These  were  removed  each 
morning  until  the  last  rose  died.  The  leaves  were 
dropped  into  a  Persian  jar.  Anne  Vincent  had  many 
such  unusual  ways,  but  none  were  stupid;  and  she 
was  free  from  such  affectations  as  in  their  very  nature 
demand  an  audience.  A  low  chair  with  a  stool  near 
by  was  set  close  to  the  fire,  and  by  this  I  knew  that 
Miss  Maywood  was  coming.  The  girl  was  always 
chilly,  and  was  sensitive  as  to  this  as  well  as  to  other 
peculiarities  due  to  her  delicate  make.  Mrs.  Vincent 
came  to  the  doorway  with  the  radiant  look  she  always 
had  for  friends. 

"No,  not  that  chair,  Alice.  That  is  SibyPs.  Let 
us  have  a  little  mild  gossip  before  the  rest  come.  Do 
you  know  that  I  got  out  of  Fred  only  last  night  a 
really  full  account  of  that  scene  between  Mr.  St.  Clair 
and  the  great  Western  man?  I  must  see  that  ani 
mal." 

"  Owen  told  me  the  next  night/'  said  my  wife.  "  He 
was  absent  the  day  after  the  dinner.  He  woke  me  up 
to  teU  me." 

"  I  wish  you  would  educate  Fred  Vincent,  my  dear. 
He  is  painfully,  inconsiderately  secretive.  He  is  a 
miser  of  secrets.  Really,  the  evolutionary  education 
of  the  husband  is— well,  I  have  given  it  up." 

"  I  never  tried  it,"  said  Alice. 

"  You  mean  it  is  useless  ? " 

"No,  no.     He  does  not  need  it.    As  to  secrets,  he 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  123 

cannot  keep  them ;  he  forgets,  and  out  they  come.  As 
to  professional  matters,  he  is  simply  dumb ;  and,  really, 
he  must  know  so  many  queer  stories." 

"  Apropos  of  queer  stories,  Dr.  North,"— she  was 
apt  at  times,  though  not  frequently,  to  call  me  Owen, 
but  rarely  when  my  wife  was  present,— "  Fred  tells 
me  that  St.  Clair  is  actually  making  a  bust  of  the 
Western  bear.  After  that  scene  it  does  appear  in 
credible." 

"  And  yet  it  is  true." 

"Then,"  said  my  wife,  "there  is  something  about 
the  matter  that  is  unexplained.  It  is  not  like  Victor. 
Let  us  ask  him.  Ah,  here  they  are,  all  of  them." 

As  she  spoke,  Clayborne  and  Sibyl  came  in. 

"Shall  it  be  around  the  fire?"  said  the  hostess. 
"  There,  Sibyl  ;  and  here  is  my  husband.  I  have 
said  I  am  at  home  to  no  one  else  this  evening." 

"  That  is  a  privilege  and  a  necessity  of  the  higher 
life,"  said  Clayborne,  in  his  serious  way.  "  As  you 
go  down  the  social  ladder  toward  cave  life,  somewhere 
the  power  to  exclude  your  fellows  ceases." 

"  A  comparative  study  of  manners  and  mere  social 
customs  would  be  worth  attempting."  This  was  Vin 
cent  who  spoke.  "  Even  to  limit  it  to  table  ways 
would  be  of  interest— from  a  bone  gnawed  in  a  cave- 
corner  to  the  evolution  of  one  of  Mrs.  North's  lit 
tle  dinners,  which  fill  my  wife  with  envy,  and  me 
with  a  sense  of  having  eaten  and  said  many  good 
things." 

My  wife  rose  and  made  him  a  curtsey. 

"  All  my  earthly  ambitions  are  fulfilled,"  she  said. 

"  Fred,"  said  Anne  Vincent,  "  the  compliment  was 


124  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

neat,  elaborate,  and  has  an  air  of  preparation.  I 
could  better  it." 

"  Then  do,  Madam  Cynic." 

Anne  blew  a  kiss  from  her  finger-tips  to  Alice. 

"  We  know,  dear,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  we  know,"  said  Alice. 

Now,  what  did  they  know?  Clayborne  regarded 
them  as  one  does  children.  He  had  a  pitiless  dis 
respect  for  the  mental  powers  of  women,  saying  that 
they  had  intelligence,  but  not  intellect.  He  disliked 
these  pretty  levities  cast  on  to  the  tide  of  graver  talk, 
and  was  then  given  to  falling  silent  or  to  thundering 
out  a  brief  protest.  At  times,  as  on  this  occasion,  he 
fell  back  upon  something  previously  said,  and,  using 
it  as  a  text,  took  possession  of  the  talk. 

"  You  were  speaking  about  a  treatise  on  manners, 
Vincent.  There  are  many  books  on  manners.  l  La 
Vie  Privee,'  by  Alfred  Franklin,  is  worth  reading ; 
but,  above  all,  FurnivalPs  collection  is  admirable. 
You  will  find  amusing  *  The  Manners  of  Babees :  A 
Lytyl  Reporte  of  how  Young  People  should  Behave.7 
'The  Booke  of  Demeanour/  too,  and  'How  to  Eat  at 
Table/  show  how  much  attention  our  remote  ances 
tors  gave  to  these  matters.  Some  of  the  rules  are 
queer  enough,  and  hardly  to  be  quoted.  By  the  way, 
North,  you  will  find  Vaughan's  fifteen  directions  as  to 
how  to  preserve  health  quite  sensible." 

I  said  I  did  not  know  them,  and  my  wife  said  to 
Clayborne :  "  You  have  only  given  us  a  mere  state 
ment  as  to  the  contents  of  a  rare  book.  Usually  you 
are  more  liberal." 

Clayborne  smiled  grimly. 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  125 

"I  will  lend  it  to  you— I  mean  FurnivalPs  book. 
It  has  some  fine  poetry.  Here,  for  example,  of  '  neez- 
ing/  that  is,  sneezing : 

If  them  by  force  doe  chance  to  neeze, 

Then  backwards  turne  away 
From  presence  of  the  companie 

Wherever  thou  art  to  stay; 

and  of  yawning : 

To  gape  in  such  unseemly  sort, 

With  ugly  gaping  mouth, 
Is  like  an  image  pictured 

A  blowing  from  the  south, 

Which  to  avoid,  etc., 

and  so  on." 

"  But  what  does  that  mean  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  My  dear  lady,  who  knows  ?  Ask  Victor.  It  is  of 
the  essence  of  poetry  to  make  the  easy  hard  to  under 
stand." 

We  discussed  this  comparison  in  vain.  Then,  at 
last,  I  saw  Clayborne  sit  up  and  lift  his  great  head. 
I  made  haste  to  talk  of  some  trivial  matter,  in  dread 
lest  he  should  get  off  to  the  manners  of  ancient  Baby 
lon.  We  escaped  the  lecture,  and  presently,  turning 
away,  he  fell  upon  the  books  which  were  lying  on 
Anne  Vincent's  table.  He  tried  first  a  volume  of 
Blanco  White's  poems.  This  he  gave  up  promptly. 
Next  he  took  up  the  "  In  Memoriam."  He  abhorred 
modern  verse  and  would  not  look  at  it,  but  now 
something  caught  and  held  him.  As  St.  Clair  said,  a 


126  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

book  which  attracted  him  was,  for  Clayborne,  what 
La  Trappe  was  to  its  inmates.  He  became  dead- 
dumb  to  the  outer  world.  This  time  he  was  in  the 
overmastering  possession  of  genius,  Our  talk  went 
on  unheard  and  unheeded.  It  was  of  the  evolution 
of  the  modern  dinner. 

"  When  I  was  a  little  boy/'  said  Vincent,  "  the  assis 
tant  bishop  of  one  of  the  Southern  States  was  staying 
at  my  father's  house  for  the  first  time.  I  remember  his 
asking  the  servant  to  take  away  his  silver  fork  and 
to  fetch  him  a  real  fork.  He  was  comforted  with  a 
two-pronged  iron  fork,  such  as  was  then  used  by 
servants." 

"  I  remember,  Vincent,"  said  I,  "  a  story  your  father 
told  me  of  this  same  bishop.  He  came  upon  a  certain 

Colonel  L leaning  against  a  snake-fence,  very 

drunk.  He  said :  *  Colonel,  do  you  never  think  of 
what  will  become  of  your  soul  in  another  world  ? ' 

"  The  colonel  said :  <  I  do— often.  That 's  aU  right/ 

"  '  What !  and  you  constantly  drunk  ? ' 

"  Then  said  the  colonel :  '  Where  is  a  man's  soul, 
bishop,  where  ?  Is  n't  it  in  his  head  ? ' 

"  The  bishop  was  a  little  puzzled.  He  said  '  he  sup 
posed  it  was.'  The  admission  was  unfortunate.  The 
colonel  said :  i  Then  it 's  all  right.  I  never  am  drunk 
in  the  head.  It  is  always  my  legs.  That  is  what  is  the 
matter  now.  Soul 's  all  right.' " 

On  being  appealed  to  as  to  the  possibility  of  sec 
tional  drunkenness,  I  said  I  had  known  men  who 
were  always  drunk  in  the  legs,  and  others  who,  when 
in  liquor,  were  more  drunk  on  one  side  of  the  body 
than  on  the  other.  Presently  we  went  back  to  the 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  127 

question  of  manners  and  to  the  customs  of  our  own 
young  days. 

"  Those  were  simpler,"  said  I.  "  We  have  changed, 
very  greatly  changed.  I  can  recall  seeing  the  ac 
count  with  our  baker  kept  on  wooden  tallies  which 
were  laid  together  and  notched  with  a  file  for  each 
loaf.  The  baker  kept  one  and  we  the  other.  I  re 
member,  too,  how  busy  the  house-mother  was  kept 
when  preserves  and  pickles  were  home-made,  and  the 
sugar-loaves  had  to  be  split  with  a  knife  and  mallet." 

"  I  am  thankful  we  are  better  off,"  said  my  wife. 
"  One  has  time  to  read  and  to  think." 

"  They,  too,  found  time  for  both,"  said  Vincent. 

"And  did  not  desire  to  be  doctors,"  added  Alice, 
slyly. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  should  like  to  have  a  woman 
doctor,"  said  Sibyl. 

"Why  not?"  Tasked. 

"  Oh,  I  should  never  obey  her— never ;  why,  I  could 
not  say.  I  should  have  no  confidence." 

"  What  you  say  is  due  altogether,"  said  Mrs.  Vin 
cent,  "to  our  want  of  primary  education.  When 
women  are  early  and  sufficiently  trained  and  can 
compete  with  men  even  in  athletics,  they  will  have 
the  full  confidence  of  their  own  sex." 

"Foot-ball  between  two  female  colleges  would 
draw,"  said  I. 

Our  dear  Mrs.  Vincent  had,  in  fact,  a  very  moder 
ate  estimate  of  the  fitness  of  her  own  sex  to  do  cer 
tain  things.  When,  from  some  theoretic  altitude, 
she  threatened  to  have  a  woman  for  her  physician, 
Vincent  smiled,  and  said :  "  Have  her  young  and 


128  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

handsome,  Anne,  and  we  will  divide  her  medical 
cares." 

Now  my  wife  began  to  tell  us  of  the  great  univer 
sity  for  women  to  be  organized  on  a  vast  scale,  with 
schools  of  medicine,  theology,  law,  navigation,  and 
engineering. 

"  I  have  one  fear,"  said  Anne  Vincent,  ever  prone 
to  lapse  into  common  sense.  "  Young  women  will 
go  to  their  colleges,  and  live  the  vie  de  gar$on,  during 
four  years.  Some  will  become  teachers  and  what 
not.  The  rest  will  go  back  untrained  for  domestic 
life,  and  soon  become  discontented  with  the  dull  rou 
tine  of  home  duties.  Is  not  that  likely  ? " 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  "It  is  so  likely  that  it  happens. 
Women  should  be  highly  educated.  That  is  well. 
But  women,  unlike  men,  have  by  nature  a  profession. 
At  the  formative  time  of  life  they  are  to  be  taught  to 
forget  it.  For  this  alone  the  college  gives  no  train 
ing.  Except  for  those  who  are  to  support  themselves, 
college  life  will  be  merely  a  perilous  episode.  It  is 
craved  by  too  many,  in  this  day  of  unrest,  for  its  in 
dependence.  What  college  trains  for  the  life  of  wife 
and  mother  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "wife  and"— after  a 
brief,  scarce  noticeable  pause— "mother." 

I  saw  the  frail  form  of  Sibyl  turn.  The  large, 
tender  eyes  regarded  Anne  Vincent  for  a  moment, 
and  she  repeated,  almost  in  a  whisper,  "Wife  and 
mother."  Then,  turning  again,  she  stared  at  the  fire ; 
but  presently,  with  courage  I  should  scarce  have 
expected,  she  said :  "  I  have  been  through  college. 
You  are  quite  correct.  It  does  unfit  many  for  life  at 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  129 

home.  Mr.  Clayborne  was  good  enough  to  dictate 
what  I  should  study,  and,  as  I  have  no  home  life, 
what  I  got  only  contributes  to  make  me  the  more 
able  to  be— well— more  contented." 

"  Why  not  teach  domestic  economy  scientifically  ?  " 
said  my  wife,  quickly.  "Why  not  group  the  girls 
in  small  households  and  ask  them  to  be  in  turn 
housekeepers  ?  It  shall  be  done  in  our  university  for 
women." 

"Ah,"  said  Anne  Vincent,  "here  is  Mr.  St.  Clair. 
Good  evening.  We  want  to  hear  about  that  bust  of 
Mr.  Crofter." 

"  Oh,  that  bust ;  it  is  nearly  done." 

"  How  could  you  ? "  said  my  wife. 

"  Ask  Owen,"  he  replied,  "  how  he  could  set  that 
man  on  his  feet  and  give  him  back  health  and  energy 
to  ruin  more  unlucky  men.  My  crime  is  a  small 
one." 

"  My  answer  would  be  easy,"  said  I. 

"And  mine  as  easy,"  said  St.  Clair.  "Why  do 
men  describe  rascals  in  books  ?  " 

"  But  they  make  the  rascality  plain,  and  the  man 
is  drawn  so  as  to  be  an  example  j  and  usually  he  has 
in  the  book  an  unpleasant  ending.  He  is  punished." 

"  Yes  j  that  is  the  fault  of  most  books,"  said  Vin 
cent.  "  Here  is  this  man,  gloriously  prosperous. 
Who  ever  tells  him  to-day  that  he  is  a  thief  and 
should  be  picking  oakum  in  a  cell  ? " 

"You  did,  in  your  way,"  said  St.  Clair. 

"I?" 

"  Yes.  He  told  me  he  guessed  folks  out  West  could 
speak  out,  but  that  you  and  I  were  worse.  We  had 


130  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

some  queer  talks.  He  is  n't  bad  through  and  through. 
I  should  really  like  to  know  one  entire  out-and-out 
rascal.  The  bust  will  be  here  next  week.  Come  and 
see  it.  I  have  refused  to  show  it  to  him  until  it  is 
quite  done.  I  want  your  opinion." 

Miss  Maywood,  who  had  been  watching  his  ani 
mated  face  with  evident  satisfaction,  said :  "  I  see 
that  you  have  done  him  justice,  the  higher  justice." 

St.  Clair  nodded.     « I  have." 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  to  serve 
such  a  man  at  all,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  What  can 
compensate  you  for  so  degrading  a  task  ?  How  you 
men  could  dine  with  him  is  to  me  amazing.  If  you 
at  least  spoke  your  honest  mind  to  him,  Frederick 
Vincent,  I  am  glad— you  did  not  tell  me."  And  with 
that  she  got  up  and  touched  Vincent  on  the  shoulder, 
a  sort  of  approving  accolade. 

It  was  unlike  her.  She  was  demonstrative  to  her 
friends,  but  very  conventionally  undemonstrative  to 
the  man  she  adored.  My  wife  smiled  at  me. 

"  When  you  see  my  bust,"  cried  St.  Clair,  "  I  shall 
have  my  reward." 

"  I  should  like  to  hang  him !  "  said  my  wife,  with 
ferocity. 

"  I  have  executed  the  bust/'  said  St.  Clair,  laughing. 
"  Oh,  come  and  see  it." 

"  And  you  will  be  paid,  I  presume  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Vin 
cent,  scornfully,  as  she  shut  up  her  fan  with  decisive 
abruptness. 

"  I  will  give  every  cent  I  shall  make  by  it  to  those 
horrid  orphans  you  feed." 

"  Will  you?     You  are  forgiven." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  131 

"  The  orphans  will  starve,"  said  Miss  Maywood. 

"  Thank  you.  I  am  glad  that  some  one  under 
stands  me,"  said  the  sculptor.  "You  are  all— all  the 
rest  of  you— pretty  dull  of  comprehension  to-night. 
May  we  smoke,  Madam  Vincent  ?  " 

Now  and  then  this  was  allowed  in  her  drawing- 
room,  a  rare  privilege. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  because  you  told  that  man  the 
truth ;  and  Fred,  for  the  same  good  reason ;  and  Mr. 
Clayborne,  because  no  corner  of  condemnation  is  big 
enough  to  hold  him.  Get  the  cigars,  Fred.  The 
room  will  be  uninhabitable  to-morrow." 

As  the  men  rose  to  light  their  cigars,  St.  Clair 
slipped  into  a  chair  beside  Clayborne,  and  was  thus 
opposite  to  Sibyl.  He  fell  into  such  unembarrassed 
study  of  her  face  as  few  men  could  have  been  guilty  of. 

The  talk,  agreeably  punctuated  by  need  to  keep 
the  cigars  alight,  fell  into  mild  ways,  in  which  St. 
Clair  and  Sibyl  took  no  part.  The  secretary  sat  look 
ing  at  the  fire.  The  poet  scarcely  took  his  eyes  from 
study  of  her  face.  At  last,  turning,  he  looked  with 
curiosity  over  Clayborne's  broad  shoulder. 

"  By  George  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  He  is  reading  l  In 
Memoriam.' " 

The  gay  chat  ceased. 

"  Impossible  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"Why  not?"  said  the  scholar,  laying  the  open 
book  on  his  knee. 

"Why  not?"  cried  St.  Clair,  overjoyed  at  the 
chance  to  twit  the  historian.  "  Because  you  have  not 
spoken  for  a  half -hour,  and  yet  the  book  was  written 
since  1600  A.D." 


132  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"There  is  stuff  in  it,"  said  Clayborne,  calmly. 
"  Sibyl  has  been  imploring  me  to  read  it.  I  chanced 
upon  it  just  now.  It  is  quite  readable." 

He  was  like  an  apologetic  child.  St.  Clair  laughed. 
"  Quite  readable !  " 

"  My  cousin  is  terribly  particular  as  to  what  I 
read/'  said  Miss  May  wood.  "  Mr.  St.  Clair  brought 
me  the  book  a  week  ago,  and  my  cousin  said  I  might 
read  it,  but  that  he  never  had  and  never  would.  And 
now  is  n't  it  delightful  to  see  him  caught  ?  She  had 
no  fear  of  the  scholar,  and  looked  at  him  tenderly  as 
she  spoke. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  is  it  true  you 
yourself  have  only  just  of  late  been  allowed  to  read 
1  In  Memoriam ' '?  As  to  Mr.  Clayborne,  he  is  full 
charged  with  prejudices.  Tell  me,  dear,  not  if  you 
like  it,  but  how  you  like  it." 

"  Oh,  I  cannot.     How  can  I  criticize  ?  " 

"  Why  not? "  said  St.  Clair,  eagerly. 

She  answered  at  once :   "It  would  be  personal." 

"  How  personal  ?     I  do  not  quite  understand." 

Usually  St.  Clair  was  sensitive  to  the  tones,  which 
say  so  much  more  than  the  words,  but  sometimes  he 
lost  this  characteristic  in  the  ardor  of  interesting 
talk. 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  replied  quietly : 
"It  was  very  long  ago— but— I— lost  in  turn— within 
a  year,  father,  mother,  and  brother.  How  can  I  talk 
of  what  is  the  very  handbook  of  sorrow  ?  " 

"I  see,  dear,"  said  my  wife.  " There  are  verses  in 
that  book  I  dare  not  read  aloud.  I  would  rather  talk 
of  something  else," 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FKIENDS  133 

"  No,"  said  Miss  May  wood,  seeing  through  this  little 
ruse,  "  no ;  you  are  very  good,  but  now  I  do  want  to 
say  something.  Mr.  Tennyson  speaks  of  a  friend's 
death.  He  must  have  loved  him  well  j  but— it  seems 
to  me  too  elaborate ;  I  cannot  find  the  right  word." 

"It  was  written  in  portions,  at  long  intervals/' 
said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  And  no  doubt  in  many  moods,"  added  St.  Clair. 

"I  did  not  know  that.  It  explains  a  good  deal. 
But,  indeed— indeed,  it  wants  something." 

There  was  that  in  the  girl's  voice  which  made  me 
regard  her  with  a  certain  anxiety.  I  tried  to  turn  the 
talk,  saying:  "Yes,  it  does  lack  unity.  But  it  is 
many  poems,  not  merely  one, — that  is  what  makes  it 
so  interesting,— and  of  course  it  is  not  all  upon  an 
equally  high  level.  You  know  some  one  has  said  that 
there  is  no  long  poem.  It  is  true.  The  long  poems 
are  really  jewels  of  poetry  in  settings  of  mere  verse. 
There  must  be  in  all  long  rhythmical  utterances  more 
or  less  of  what  we  anatomists  call  connective  tissue— 
the  body  stuff,  the  mortar  which  binds  all  parts 
together." 

Sibyl  was  not  in  a  mood  to  be  thus  lightly  turned 
aside. 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  returned;  "but  I  did  not,  I  could 
not,  criticize  this  book  as  to  its  technical  values.  I 
said  I  was  speaking  from  the  personal  point  of  view." 

"  Well  ? "  I  queried. 

She  was  for  some  reason,  or  moved  by  some  deci 
sive  impulse,  eager  to  speak  her  mind. 

"  You  will  think  me  very  silly,  I  fear,  but  I  miss  in 
this  great  book  the  sorrow  which  can  only  be  for 
10 


134  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

some  one  of  a  household,  some  one  of  our  own  blood 
—a  mother,  a  child.  I  do  not  feel  in  this  verse  the 
agony  of  loss,  the  death  which  is  many  deaths  in  one, 
the  funeral  of  countless  hopes,  of  sweet  expectations, 
of— oh,  of  many  things.  Above  all—"  and  as  she 
paused  I  hoped  that  she  would  not  go  on.  She  drew 
a  long  breath  and  continued  :  "  I  miss— oh,  above  all 
else— the  sorrow  for  another's  grief,  and— and  the 
sorrow  those  have  who,  seeing  their  own  death 
near  upon  them,  grieve  for  those  they  leave,  with 
living  power  to  weep.  I  remember  the  sorrow  I 
had  for  my  mother's  grief  when  my  brother  died. 
I  miss  the  not  unpleasing  sense  of  the  nearness 
of  death  which  such  loss  brings  to  those  who 
still  live  j  I  miss  that  strange  grief  which  comes  be 
cause  of  inability  to  recall  the  dear  face.  This  po 
etry  seems  to  me  to  tell  of— oh,  I  want  a  word— of 
a  far-away  sorrow.  It  is  noble  and  uplifting,  yes, 
and  helpful.  I  go  with  him,  after  him,  but  somehow 
he  has  not  hold  of  my  hand.  There,  I  have  had  my 
foolish  say." 

I  saw  the  great  scholar's  look  of  wonder  as  she 
went  on  with  this  burst  of  hurried  speech.  As  she 
spoke,  the  tremor  I  had  noticed  disappeared  from  her 
voice.  Her  uplifted  face  was  very  beautiful. 

"  No  doubt,  dear,  you  are  right,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 
"  You  have  put  the  case  as  against  Tennyson  admi 
rably  well.  But  you  expect  more  than  he  meant  to 
give." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  St.  Clair ;  "  I  do  not  know. 
I  lost  all  who  would  have  been  dear  before  I  knew 
what  tears  were.  There  is  another  great  poem  of 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  135 

many  forms  of  grief.  It  is  that  sarcophagus  at  Con 
stantinople,  '  Les  Pleureuses.'  We  talked  of  it  some 
time  ago.  Not  the  happiest  can  see  it  and  fail  to  feel 
this  changeless  grief/' 

"  Oh,  but  I  should  like  to  see  it,"  cried  Sibyl,  and 
again  her  voice  was  the  voice  of  unwept  tears. 

Mrs.  Vincent  was  quick  to  note  it,  and  rose,  say 
ing  :  "I  have  the  photographs  somewhere.  Come, 
help  me  to  look  for  them,  my  dear."  ^ 

"  I  have  them  at  my  studio,"  said  St.  Clair.  "  You 
lent  them  to  me  last  week." 

I  did  not  wonder  at  the  glance  of  exasperation  my 
good  Alice  cast  on  the  thoughtless  poet.  Mrs.  Vin 
cent's  interference  came  too  late.  Sibyl  rose  at  her 
call,  but  suddenly  burst  into  tears,  and  then  laughing 
hysterically,  cried :  "  Oh,  excuse  me.  I— I  am  so 
foolish.  I—"  and  she  dropped  into  a  chair  and  looked 
about  her  with  large,  wondering  eyes. 

Mrs.  Vincent  said,  as  she  knelt  beside  her :  "  You 
look  pale,  dear.  It  is  the  smoke." 

"I  am  all  right  now,  Mrs.  Vincent.    It  is  nothing." 

We,  the  men,  were  a  little  embarrassed,  and  Clay- 
borne  whispered  sternly  to  St.  Clair :  "  What  a  fool 
you  are  !  Don't  answer  me !  "  And  he  did  not. 

"  Ring  for  tea,  Fred,"  said  his  wife,  "  and  do  you 
men  go  and  smoke  in  the  library.  I  knew  the  to 
bacco  would  be  intolerable  here." 

We  went  like  forth-driven  sheep,  and  had  our  tea 
sent  to  us  like  naughty  children. 

When,  thus  exiled,  we  had  settled  down  in  the  li 
brary,  no  word  was  said  of  Miss  Maywood's  emotional 
disaster.  Vincent  spoke  of  an  interesting  case  of  a 


136  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

forged  will;  Clayborne  discussed,  rather  heavily,  a 
book  on  Aztec  hieroglyphics ;  and  St.  Glair  fluttered 
over  the  conversation  like  an  uninterested  ephemerid. 
At  last  Vincent  asked  the  scholar  why  he  had  invited 
Crofter  to  dine. 

"  I  asked  him  as  I  would  have  asked  Caesar  Borgia." 

"  Or  Mephistopheles,"  added  St.  Clair. 

"Out  of  pure  curiosity,  then?"  said  Vincent. 
"  What  a  -mess  we  made  of  it !  " 

"  We  did— I  did,"  said  St.  Clair.  "  I  am  glad  I 
did.  He  's  a  queer  specimen,  and  for  cool  willingness 
of  frank  statement  beats  anything  I  have  ever  seen. 
He  talked  steadily  at  times  while  sitting  to  me,  and 
discussed  all  of  you  as  if  he  felt  bound  to  enlighten 
me.  It  was  fine,  I  assure  you." 

a  Well,  and  what  did  he  say  ? "  asked  Vincent. 
"  The  opinion  of  a  large-brained  outlaw  as  to  his 
moral  betters  might  be  curious." 

"  He  thought  Clayborne  a  man  easily  to  be  under 
stood." 

"  Oh,  confound  the  fellow !     Am  I,  indeed  ? " 

No  man  likes  to  have  it  supposed  that  he  is  easy  to 
see  through.  Why,  I  cannot  say. 

"  He  says  he  never  saw  a  man  like  you,  Vincent. 
He  put  it  in  this  fashion:  'Well,  that  man  's  the 
calmest  cuss  I  ever  saw.'  ('Calm  cuss'  is  good.) 
1  He  's  a  clarif yin'  cuss.  You  can't  muddle  things  for 
him,  and  he  does  think  quicker  and  truer  than  any 
man  I  know.  I  '11  have  him  in  my  next  bad  case. 
He  's  got  one  drawback.  He  is  n't  a  man  makes  al 
lowances.  He  's  got  useless  fences  round  him.  I 
wonder,  if  he  'd  been  fetched  up  the  way  I  was,  if 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  137 

he  'd  have  been  like  a  little  God  Almighty  about  other 
folks'  ways  of  gettin'  on?' " 

"  Ah,  perhaps  not,"  said  Vincent.  "  No  doubt  the 
man  has  qualities  that  are  good." 

"  He  is  generous,"  said  St.  Clair.  "  I  hear  that  he 
has  been  giving  money  freely  to  charities." 

"  No  He  is  lavish.  You  remember  our  old  prov 
erb,  'A  fool  and  other  people's  money  are  soon 
parted'?" 

"  I  remember  it  well.  I  think  it  was  applied  to  me. 
But  this  man  is  no  fool." 

" Certainly  not,"  said  Vincent.  "He  is  merely 
bribing  opinion  that  he  may  get  social  place.  Now 
it  is  social  legislation  he  is  corrupting." 

"  Would  you  ever  act  for  him  ?  "  said  I  to  Vincent. 

"How  can  you  ask?  Even  if  his  case  were  right 
eous  altogether  I  would  not." 

"He  has  declined,"  said  Clayborne,  "to  give  me 
the  pleasure  of  a  contest  over  my  coal-rates." 

"That  is  sad,"  said  Vincent.  "Ah,  I  hear  Mrs. 
North,  Owen.  Do  we  dine  with  you,  Clayborne,  next 
week?" 

"  Yes  j  and  I  have  asked  an  old  gentleman,  Dr. 
Randolph,  to  meet  you." 

"  Oh,  Randolph,"  said  I.  "  He  retired  from  active 
work  years  ago.  I  shall  be  most  glad  to  meet  him 
once  more.  He  is  full  of  talk  about  older  days.  Yes, 
Alice,  I  'm  coming." 


IX 


JEFORE  we  dined  again  with  Clayborne 
I  had  been  to  a  distant  Western  city. 
My  errand  was  to  consult  in  a  difficult 
case.  I  had  been  able,  as  it  chanced,  to 
throw  much  light  upon  it,  and  with 
reason  to  revive  the  failing  hopes  of  the  patient  and 
his  friends.  I  returned  in  high  good  humor,  because 
of  having  honestly  earned  my  fee,  and  because  a  com 
fortable  railway  journey  is  always  agreeable  to  me. 
Nowhere  do  I  think  as  fluently  and  with  more  sure 
result  than  in  a  swift  train.  Here  I  feel  secure  from 
invasion.  I  am  guarded  by  the  immense  average  of 
silent  reserve  attained  by  the  American.  If,  however, 
I  no  longer  crave  solitary  thought,  and  desire  to  talk, 
in  the  smoking-car  I  am  reasonably  sure  to  find  those 
who  will  cordially  respond.  I  drop  into  a  seat  near 
some  selected  man,  and  in  ten  minutes  he  is  telling 
me  his  life-story.  To  converse  about  what  a  man 
knows  best  is  a  certain  way  to  please  the  man,  and  to 
learn  what  he  knows  and  what  you  may  not.  I  regret 
that  I  have  kept  no  record  of  the  many  biographies 
frankly  given  me  in  the  long  hours  of  travel. 

This  time  I  made  a  very  entertaining  capture.  The 
train  was  only  half  full,  and  in  the  luxurious  easy- 
chairs  of  the  drawing-room  smoker  were  not  more 
than  half  a  dozen  men.  I  looked  about  me  and  chose 

138 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  139 

as  the  comrade  of  my  cigar  a  lean  man  with  large 
features.  I  have  a  prejudice  in  favor  of  large  features. 
I  asked  for  a  match.  He  gave  me  one  without  a  word, 
but  made  no  sign  of  willingness  to  talk.  Thanking 
him,  I  said :  "  Once  in  a  train  in  Georgia  a  man  asked 
me  for  a  light.  I  did  not  offer  the  stump  of  my  nearly 
finished  cigar,  but,  meaning  to  be  more  civil,  handed 
him  my  match-box.  He  returned  it  unused,  and  said : 
*  In  my  country,  when  you  ask  a  man  for  a  light,  he 
gives  you  his  cigar— if  he  is  a  gentleman.' " 

"And  he  said  that?"  returned  my  neighbor,  sud 
denly  all  alive.  "  I  'd  like  to  hear  what  you  said." 

"  I  said :  '  With  pleasure ;  but  first  let  me  light  an 
other  cigar.  This  is  almost  out  and  would  have  been 
useless.7  He  instantly  replied :  '  I  beg  your  pardon, 
sir.  I  did  n't  understand';  and  we  fell  to  chatting 
about  the  great  war." 

After  this  little  conversational  lure  my  new  com 
panion  accepted  a  cigar,  and  we  slid  into  easy  rela 
tions.  When  he  mentioned  his  business,  I  saw  a 
chance  and  expressed  my  desire  to  hear  more  of  it. 
From  this  he  was  readily  led  to  talk  of  himself,  and 
slipped  into  telling  me  his  own  history.  He  had 
worked  on  his  father's  farm  in  New  York.  He  had 
been  a  clerk  in  a  village  shop.  He  had  been  a  book- 
agent,  and  saved  a  little  money.  This  was  an  every 
day  story.  An  American  at  thirty  has  no  idea  of 
anchorage.  He  is  open  to  do  any  one  of  a  dozen 
things.  It  is  not  the  versatility  that  amazes  me  so 
much  as  the  power  to  apply  variously  a  certain  afflu 
ence  of  energy.  At  thirty  my  man  concluded  to  go 
into  business.  He  had  invented,  as  he  believed^  an 


140  DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

important  improvement  on  the  threshing-machine.  I 
said: 

"  Were  you  always  inventive  as  a  boy  1 " 

"  Never  until  I  was  thirty.  Then  I  chanced  to  see 
a  thresher  break  down,  and,  as  I  am  always  curious, 
I  looked  into  the  animal's  make,  and  seemed  to  see 
what  was  needed  to  better  the  machine.  Since  then 
I  have  made  many  inventions." 

This  did  not  surprise  me.  I  knew  a  similar  case. 
These  discoveries  in  middle  life  of  unused  capacities 
are  apt  to  be  made  in  families  the  children  of  which, 
as  a  rule,  develop  late.  It  was  so  of  the  case  to  which 
I  refer. 

I  was  reminded,  by  what  passed  through  my  mind, 
of  a  question  once  asked  me  by  Vincent,  as  to  how  late 
in  life  a  man  might  hope  to  bring  into  use  and  train 
hitherto  little  used  or  unused  faculties.  I  said  in  reply 
that  such  efforts  were  rare,  that  few  old  men  were  thus 
given  to  novel  forms  of  mental  enterprise.  I  said 
also  that  such  cases  had  occurred.  In  fact,  the  brain 
in  those  who  grow  old  wholesomely  does  not  seem  to 
age  as  does  the  rest  of  the  human  body,  nor  to  feel 
as  distinctly  as  do  the  locomotive  mechanisms  the  ex 
asperating  vetoes  of  time.  As  a  rule,  the  highly  cul 
tivated  brain  is  apt  to  outlast  functionally  that  of  the 
mere  day-laborer,  and  yet,  after  all,  its  prosperity  de* 
pends  largely  on  the  health  of  many  distant  organs. 
But  this  I  felt  to  be  too  broad  a  question  for  imme 
diate  consideration,  and  I  began  anew  to  pay  atten 
tion  to  the  continued  talk  of  my  companion.  He 
went  on : 

"  I  took  my  idea  to  a  workman  and  had  it  made  up. 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  141 

Then  I  got  a  patent  and  asked  a  big  firm  to  consider 
it.  They  offered  me  a  fair  price  for  it.  I  said :  '  No. 
Make  me  a  small  partner,  and  let  this  machine  be  my 
capital.  I  have  two  better  ones  in  my  head.7  After 
fussing  a  year  they  took  my  offer.  That  was  ten  years 
ago.  Now  I  am  well  up  in  the  firm.  We  make  all 
kinds  of  agricultural  machines,  fruit-parers,  butter- 
stamps,  cream-separators.  Now  and  then  I  still  travel 
for  the  firm.  I  began  that  way.  I  was  the  man  to 
get  up  the  lecture-traveler  and  the  special-accom 
plishment  man." 

"  What  ? "  said  I.    "  Explain  a  little." 

"Well,  you  get  a  bright  young  college  fellow. 
You  put  him  in  the  factory  three  months.  Then  you 
make  him  get  up  the  science  of  the  things  we  make. 
He  fixes  up  a  lot  of  illustrations  and  models,  and  goes 
to  a  village  in  a  good,  well-to-do  farming  country. 
There  he  sees  the  local  editor,  and  advertises  a  free 
lecture  or  two  on  farm  science  for  everybody.  The 
lectures  are  interesting.  If  they  are  not,  we  drop  him. 
Next  week  comes  our  sample-man  and  takes  orders. 
I  tell  you  it  works." 

"  But  the  accomplishment  traveler,"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  that  >s  fine  !  At  first  I  traveled  myself  for 
the  firm.  I  sold  small  household  machines.  I  can 
sing  like  a  bird,  and  I  can  do  the  church  music  to 
beat  most  men.  So  I  used  to  get  hold  of  the  preach 
ers  and  deacons  of  a  Saturday.  I  always  had  letters 
from  our  ministers.  The  firm  saw  to  that.  I  would 
sing  hymns  and  songs  to  the  children  and  the  rest, 
and  get  leave  to  sing  during  the  collection  the  Sun 
day  after.  I  liked  to  do  it,  too,  and  don't  you  make 


142  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

any  mistake  about  it.  I  am  a  member  of  the  Metho 
dist  Church.  It  is  n't  all  business.  Next  day  I  went 
round  with  the  machines.  I  know  a  man  that  travels 
in  shovels  and  hoes.  His  plan  is  to  lead  prayer-meet 
ings.  I  pick  out  our  travelers  myself.  I  have  a  list. 
See,  now,  here  it  is  in  my  pocket-book.  I  tell  you  it 
works.  '  E.  Jones,  card  tricks,  sleight  of  hand ;  Tomp- 
kins,  negro  songs ;  Walker,  photographs  the  babies— 
no  charge/  It  works  well  in  the  West.  There,  too, 
is  the  church-music  department." 

"  Selling  is  a  peculiar  talent,"  said  I. 

"  Yes.  Some  men  can  sell  anybody  anything.  I 
once  sold  a  threshing-machine  to  a  confectioner.  I 
could  sell  ice  in  Greenland,  or  hot-air  furnaces  in 
Ashanti.  I  am  going  to  Europe  now.  I  want  rest. 
I  've  got  six  weeks  to  see  Italy,  France,  and  England." 

This  is  a  fair  statement  of  what  a  man,  curious  as 
to  his  fellows,  may  pick  up  in  travel.  I  once  went  to 
Harrisburg  and  had  to  return  during  the  night.  The 
train  was  crowded.  At  last,  in  the  stifling,  dimly 
lighted  smoking-car,  I  found  a  man  asleep  across  two 
seats.  I  awakened  him,  and  saying  I  was  sorry  to 
disturb  him,  sat  down. 

After  a  little  he  said,  "Do  you  know  Dr.  Owen 
North?" 

Rather  astonished,  I  said,  "  Yes." 

"  What  kind  of  a  man  is  he  ? " 

"  Oh,  a  very  good  fellow." 

"  He  is  like  all  them  high-up  doctors,  I  guess.  He 
gets  big  fees.  I  want  to  know." 

"  No,"  said  I.  "  That  is  always  exaggerated.  Why 
do  you  ask  ? " 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  143 

"Well,  I  've  had  a  lot  of  doctors,  and  I  ain't  no 
better,  and  now  I  have  n't  much  money  left." 

Upon  this  my  friend  confided  to  me  all  his  physical 
woes  in  detail.  We  parted  before  daybreak.  It  was 
too  dark  in  the  car  for  either  of  us  to  see  plainly  the 
face  of  the  other. 

About  ten  next  day  the  man  entered  my  consult 
ing-room.  As  I  should  not  have  known  him,  except 
for  a  rather  peculiar  voice,  I,  too,  remained  unidenti 
fied.  I  could  not  resist  so  comic  an  opportunity. 
I  said,  looking  at  him :  "Sit  down.  You  have  a  pain 
in  your  back." 

"  That  's  queer.     I  have." 

"  And  you  are  blind  in  the  left  eye,  and  your  di 
gestion  is  very  bad,"  and  so  I  went  on. 

At  last  he  said :  "  I  never  saw  a  doctor  like  you. 
It  scares  a  man,  'most.  Can  you  cure  me  ? " 

I  said,  "Yes,"  and  wrote  out  my  directions.  It 
was  really  a  simple  case. 

When  he  produced  a  well-worn  wallet  I  declined  to 
take  a  fee,  and  said:  "I  owe  you  for  the  seat,  and 
the  good  sleep  I  disturbed  last  night." 

"  Thunder  !  I  see.  You  were  the  man.  But  law ! 
why  did  you  give  it  away  ?  I  'd  have  sent  you  the 
whole  township." 

I  reached  home  from  my  Western  trip  just  in  time 
to  dress  and,  with  my  wife,  to  catch  the  train  to  the 
station  near  Holmwood.  A  slight  mishap  to  the  en 
gine  delayed  us,  and  we  found  the  party  at  dinner. 
I  dropped  into  a  vacant  chair  on  Miss  Maywood's  left. 
St.  Clair  was  on  her  right  •  Mrs.  Vincent  in  the  seat 
next  to  me.  Dr.  Randolph,  an  old  man,  ruddy,  vig- 


144  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

orous,  and  crowned  with  abundant  gray  locks,  was 
between  Clayborne  and  my  wife.  The  wine  was 
Gorton  vieux,  such  as  recalled  to  me  my  student 
days,  when  on  Sundays  we  dined  at  the  Cafe  Magny. 

I  had  not  seen  the  good  doctor  for  many  years. 
The  next  day  my  wife  described  him  neatly  as  "  an 
altogether  wholesome-looking  man  with  a  valuable 
smile."  I  asked  what  she  meant,  to  which  she 
answered  that,  like  Mrs.  Vincent,  he  never  laughed, 
and  that  he  had  a  look  of  antique  gravity  which 
made  you  feel  his  rare  smile  a  kindly  compliment. 

The  talk  was  quiet,  and,  being  hungry,  I  said  little 
until  I  caught  up  to  the  rest  and  felt  I  had  suffi 
ciently  attended  to  my  appetite.  Then  I  spoke  to 
Miss  May  wood. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  how  goes  the  work  ?  " 

"  Oh,  we  have  finished  a  long  article  on  Professor 
Edmundstone's  book  about  the  Northland  sagas. 
There  are  only  fragments  of  him  left ;  but  I  did  beg 
him  off  from  Mr.  Clayborne's  final  chastisement." 

"  And  books  ?  Are  you  still  on  a  diet,  and  what  ? 
There  are  animal  and  vegetable  books." 

"  I  am  reading  aloud  to  the  master  Shakespeare's 
historical  plays.  He  says  I  read  well.  Is  n't  that 
delightful  ? "  Her  joy  at  this  approval  was  beautiful 
to  see,  as  with  some  slight  difficulty  she  half  turned 
toward  me  and  added :  "  He  thinks  Shakespeare  wrote 
at  times  bits  of  poetry  and  then  used  them  in  his 
plays.  He  says  that  some  one  has  remarked  upon 
the  improbability  of  Hamlet,  the  prince,  having  suf 
fered  from  the  proud  man's  contumely  and  especially 
the  insolence  of  office." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  145 

"  That  is  not  very  novel,  and  not  up  to  Clayborne's 
usual  force;  but  Hamlet  might  have  been,  in  his 
melancholy  sensitiveness,  overstating,  too,  what  such 
men  overfeel.  He  who  wrote  was  a  keen  observer 
of  the  world  about  him,  and  perhaps  was  himself  a 
sensitive  man.  I  think  of  Hamlet  as  very  feminine 
in  the  ghost  scene.  He  behaved  as  some  women 
might  have  done." 

"  Ah,"  she  said  seriously,  "  as  I  did  that  horrid 
night.  I  was  so  ashamed." 

"  My  dear  Miss  Sibyl,  you  had— you  have  no  reason 
to  be  ashamed." 

"  Oh,  but  I  have.  Mr.  Clayborne  told  me  that  I 
must  have  more  self-control.  He  is  dreadfully  out 
spoken—as  if  I  did  not  know.  I  may  talk  to  you, 
may  I  not  ?  You  are  so  good  to  me." 

"  Say  what  you  please." 

"  I  try  not  to  give  way,  but  oh,  Dr.  North,  it  is 
hard  sometimes  not  to  give  way.  I  love  beautiful 
things,  and  the  woods  and  the  country,  and  I  cannot 
even  walk  far.  I  get  tired.  I  love  children,  and  they 
tire  me.  I  am  a  disabled  wreck  of  a  woman ;  and  I 
must  go  on  and  on.  I  never  talked  to  any  one  in 
this  way.  Please  to  excuse  me.  Mr.  Clayborne  says 
to  bewail  what  cannot  be  bettered  is  to  feed  calamity 
with  attention,  and  that  I  have  what  the  healthy 
should  envy.  Have  I  ? " 

"  Yes,  in  large  measure." 

"  Mr.  St.  Clair  says  I  have  a  beautiful  face." 

"He  said  that?" 

"Yes.  He  seems  to  say  whatever  comes  upper 
most  in  his  mind." 


146  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  He  said  what  is  true,  but  he  should  not  have  said 
it." 

"  I  suppose  not/'  she  murmured  sadly.  "  It  does 
no  good.  I  mean— I—" 

Fortunately,  at  this  moment  Vincent  asked  me  a 
question,  and  St.  Clair  said  a  word  to  Miss  Maywood 
as  to  his  vase. 

When,  being  in  a  way  troubled,  I  mentioned  this 
talk  to  my  wife,  she  said :  "  Some  one  must  speak  to 
St.  Clair.  You  know  that  any  form  of  personal 
beauty  makes  the  man  utterly  regardless  of  everything 
else.  It  becomes  worship.  Then  he  finds  a  new  idol, 
and  so  it  goes  on." 

"  I  see  we  are  going  to  have  mischief,  Alice.  I  have 
already  talked  this  over  with  Anne  Vincent,  but  that 
was  a  good  while  ago." 

"  The  man  has  for  some  women  power  to  fascinate. 
He  does  not  know  it.  He  does  not  mean  to  do  harm. 
He  was  devoted  for  a  month  to  that  idiot  Dorothy 
Summers  because  she  has  beautiful  hands.  At  last 
she  lost  her  head,  and  would  never  wear  gloves. 
Meanwhile  all  the  heart  she  has  was  lost,  and  after 
that  hysterics.  Owen  North,  you  may  smile— but  it 
is  really  fascination." 

"  That  is,  dear,  inexplicable  attractiveness." 

"Yes." 

All  this  was  after  we  were  at  home. 

The  table  party  soon  followed  Clayborne  into  the 
library. 

"  I  have  set  out,"  he  said,  "  a  little  side  feast  for  my 
friend  Randolph.  Come  here,  doctor."  We  gathered 
around  them.  "  Here  is  Raleigh's  copy  of  '  Tasso.' 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  147 

See  <  W.  Ralegh '  writ  clear  across  the  title-page.  You 
know  how  much  I  like  books  with  personal  associ 
ations." 

"  It  brings  Raleigh  very  near,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 
"  It  was  printed  in  Ferrara,  I  see,  in  1583." 

"When  did  Raleigh  write  in  it?"  I  asked.  "It 
opens  stiffly,  as  if  unused  this  long  while.  But  see 
how  strong  the  binding  is.  Book-clothes  were  meant 
to  last  in  those  days." 

"Did  he  leave  any  other  mark  upon  it?"  asked 
Vincent. 

"No 5  not  a  line.  Yet  it  was  then  common  to 
make  marginal  comments.  My  black-letter  Chaucer 
is  full  of  them." 

Sibyl  took  the  little  book  reverently  from  Mrs. 
Vincent's  hand,  saying:  "Was  it  in  the  Tower  he 
read  it?" 

I  saw  the  girl  furtively  kiss  the  little  vellum-bound 
volume  as  she  took  it  away  to  replace  it  on  the  shelf. 

"Here,  St.  Clair,"  said  Clayborne,  "is  a  copy  of 
Pope  in  eight  volumes.  It  belonged  to  Burns.  His 
name  is  in  it  in  three  places.  His  son,  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Burns,  gave  it  to  an  old  friend  of  the  poet. 
Here,  too,  is  this  gentleman's  memorandum.  One 
missing  volume  of  the  set  he  replaced  by  purchase  of 
a  full  set  of  the  same  edition.  One  autograph  is 
curious.  Across  the  title-page  of  Volume  IV.  Burns 
has  written,  '  Rt.  Burns,  Poet.'  The  same  description 
of  himself  is  also  in  another  book,  owned,  I  am  told, 
in  Chicago." 

"  I  fancy,"  said  St.  Clair,  "  that  nowhere  else  has  as 
great  a  poet  ventured  to  describe  himself  thus." 


148  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Is  it,"  said  my  wife,  "  because  they  doubt,  or  are 
they  shy  of  assuming  a  great  title,  or  is  it  because  it 
is  not  the  custom  ? " 

St.  Clair  stood  looking  at  the  volume  he  held. 

"  The  signature  is  slightly  different  from  the  other 
two." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  the  barley  brew,"  said  I. 

"  For  shame !  "  said  Clayborne.  "  Take  it  away, 
Sibyl.  Here  is  Sterne's  copy  of  l  Tristram  Shandy,' 
with  three  autographs." 

"  I  do  not  care  for  him  or  for  his  books,"  said  Vin 
cent. 

"  Oh,  this  is  better.  It  is  HowelPs  '  Letters/  with 
Walpole's  book-plate,  and  later  it  belonged  to  Thack 
eray.  I  may  have  shown  you  this  before." 

"  Delightful  gossip  it  is !  Imagine  a  fellow  keeping 
copies  of  his  own  letters  for  publication.  It  was  once 
a  fashion." 

"  The  book  interested  me,"  said  I,  "  because  in  it  he 
relates  how,  having  a  rheum,  he  consulted  the  great 
William  Harvey.  He  tells  where  he  had  for  drink  on 
the  Continent  a  fine  beverage,  caughey.  He,  too,  had 
his  turn  in  the  Tower." 

"  I  have  no  fancy  for  autographs,"  said  Vincent, 
"except  to  put  in  the  books  the  man  wrote.  It  is 
pleasant  to  pick  up  Ruskin  or  Byron  and  have  a 
letter  drop  out.  It  is  like  a  personal  welcome.  By 
the  way,  Clayborne,  you  must  have  many  letters  of 
value." 

"  I  burn  them." 

"  Wise  man,"  said  Dr.  Randolph. 

"  I  dislike  to  burn  even  a  note,"  said  St.  Clair. 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  149 

"  You  do  not  even  read  them  ? " 

"  No.     It  saves  a  deal  of  bother." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  Randolph,  "  that  my  ancestors 
kept  their  letters.  I  am  now  reading  them,  and  with 
interest,  too.  I  am  pleased  to  say  they  were  all 
Tories." 

"Like  yourself,"  said  Clayborne. 

"Yes.  I  regret  our  separation  from  Great  Brit 
ain.  Our  government  is  a  sad  failure,  and  always 
has  been." 

The  doctor  of  the  bright  blue  eyes  and  pleasant 
face  was  as  complete  a  pessimist  as  I  ever  knew.  He 
called  himself  a  Quaker,  and  when  I  so  describe  him 
I  mean  that,  although  not  a  member  of  meeting,  he 
still  attended  the  service  of  orthodox  Friends,  and 
spoke  coldly  of  Hicksites  as  "  Separatists."  He  com 
monly  used  Friends'  language,  but  always  correctly. 
Before  the  Civil  War  he  had  been  in  close  relation  to 
Friends.  When  the  flag  was  lowered  at  Fort  Sum- 
ter  he  gave  up  his  practice,  went  away  quietly,  and, 
although  no  longer  a  young  man,  became  an  assistant 
surgeon.  On  one  occasion  he  was  near  a  battery 
when  all  its  officers  were  disabled.  He  took  com 
mand,  and,  although  twice  wounded,  brought  the 
guns  out  of  a  position  of  great  danger  when  they  had 
come  near  to  being  taken.  Upon  his  return  on  sick- 
leave,  he  was  waited  upon  by  a  committee  of  Friends, 
who  desired  him  to  abandon  his  wicked  ways.  He 
declared  that  he  was  only  one  of  a  few  hundred  thou 
sand  policemen  required  to  prevent  certain  people 
from  taking  Uncle  Sam's  property.  As  this  did  not 
quite  satisfy  Friends,  and  he  declined  to  show  signs 


150  Dtt.  NOBl'H  AND  HIS  FttfENDS 

of  penitence,  he  ceased  to  keep  up  his  former  connec 
tion  with  their  body. 

When  the  good  doctor  thus  stated  his  regret  at  the 
disunion  of  the  colonies  and  the  mother-land,  Vin 
cent  said :  "  It  is  delightful  nowadays  to  hear  a  man 
avow  himself  a  Tory.  I  like  inherited  opinions.  I 
still  like  to  call  myself  a  Federalist." 

"We  are  consistent,"  said  Randolph.  "My  people 
have  always  been  loyal,  long  ago  to  the  king,  and  of 
late  to  their  own  country." 

"  That  is  prettily  said,"  remarked  my  wife.  "  I 
should  certainly  have  been  a  Tory." 

"I  should  like,  doctor,"  returned  Vincent,  "to 
argue  the  older  question.  But  are  you  not  practi 
cally  inconsistent?  Why  try  to  save  this  miserable 
country,  at  cost,  too,  of  time  and  of  blood  ?  Was  it 
worth  while  ?  " 

The  doctor  hesitated.  Then  he  said:  "We  are 
here  among  friends.  I  thought,  I  still  think,  the 
South  right  j  but  I  stood  by  my  State,  as  did  Robert 
Lee." 

"I  cannot  understand  that,"  said  Vincent,  with 
more  than  usual  fervor.  "Nor,  pardon  me,  can  I 
comprehend  that  fractional  form  of  love  of,  shall  we 
say  country  ?  which  Owen  North  once  labeled  l  State- 
riotism.'  What  does  your  State  represent?  What 
ideas  ?  Can  you  describe  its  flag  to-day  ?  The  love 
of  a  city  I  can  comprehend,  and  that  of  a  country, 
but  the  other  I  cannot.  As  to  being  still  a  colony, 
as  to  that  being  desirable,  good  heavens !  no  colony 
ever  comes  to  anything,  in  letters,  arms,  or  invention. 
It  has  no  individuality  as  a  nation.  Look  at  Canada, 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  151 

older  than  we.  What  has  she  to  show?  Colonies 
have  no  adult  life.  They  are  overgrown  children. 
They  are  simply  imitative,  and  imitation  implies 
weakness." 

"And  what  have  we?"  said  Randolph.  "We  are 
only  a  vast  human  average." 

"  If  so,  our  average  must  be  high  enough  to  com 
pete  with  the  best  of  other  lands,  no  matter  if  it  be 
in  war,  diplomacy,  invention,  or  product  of  influen 
tial  ideas." 

"And  I,"  said  Randolph,  "should  like  to  argue 
that  with  thee;  but  one  cannot  get  up  a  debating 
society  in  Clayborne's  house.  I  inherit  my  ideas,  I 
fear." 

"No  one  inherits  ideas,"  said  Clayborne.  "You 
inherit  a  peculiar  form  of  mental  and  moral  structure 
which  makes  easy  of  assimilation  ideas  sown  in  the 
soil  of  childhood." 

"'T  is  a  consoling  doctrine,"  said  St.  Clair;  "a 
dreadful  thing  to  have  to  wrestle  with  your  ances 
tors.  But,  really,  the  world  is  very  illogical.  When 
I  get  in  debt,  Clayborne  ought  to  select  one  of  my 
grandfathers  and  keep  a  little  account  against  him, 
chalked  up  on  his  tombstone,  instead  of  abusing  me." 

"  But  what  would  be  the  use  ? "  said  Sibyl. 

The  serious  aspect  of  any  statement  was  that  which 
usually  addressed  itself  to  this  young  woman.  Mrs. 
Vincent  looked  at  her  with  suppressed  amusement, 
and  then,  as  she  caught  my  eye,  with  a  glance  of 
swift-following  sadness.  It  is  one  of  the  charms  of 
close  friendship  that  we  acquire  sensitive  apprehen- 
siveness  as  to  the  unspoken  thought  of  friends.  Now 


152  BE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

both  of  us  were  asking  ourselves  who  was  responsible 
in  the  past  for  all  the  sorrow  of  this  crippled  frame. 

"Ah,"  exclaimed  Sibyl,  "if  we  could  punish  the 
past ! " 

St.  Clair,  who  was  in  one  of  his  wild  moods,  cried 
out :  "  We  can't  even  do  that  for  ourselves,  our  own 
past.  We  ought  to  have  life  reversed  at  eighty  and 
live  it  backward  to  extinction.  Oh,  then  we  should 
catch  it !  We  should  say,  as  we  youthed  to  some  age  of 
former  indiscretion,  '  Now  I  have  you,  my  little  man. 
All  my  troubles  began  when  you  first  stole  apples. 
What  an  example  for  my  later  years ! ;  Whack ! 
Whack !  Then  one  would  ask,  not  how  old  are  you, 
but  how  young  are  you." 

We  laughed,  except  Sibyl,  who  was  half  puzzled, 
and  Clayborne,  who  disliked  this  sort  of  harmless 
nonsense.  For  a  moment  he  sat  still,  saying, 
"  l  Youthed— youthed  '—St.  Clair  is  past  hope."  Then 
he  quoted :  "  l  See  that  thou  art  master  of  thyself.  In 
the  day  of  consequences  thou  shalt  not  revile  thy 
father,  since  he,  too,  may  have  suffered  for  the  sins 
of  his  father ;  and  of  all  who  are  Allah  is  the  Father, 
and  what  at  last  shalt  thou  say  of  him  ? ' " 

"  I  think,"  said  St.  Clair,  "  I  should  say  that  if  the 
child  be  the  father  of  the  man,  he  occasionally  fails  of 
parental  obligations,  and  that  if  Allah  be  the  Father 
of  us  all,  I,  at  least,  am  of  opinion—1 

"  Please  not,"  said  my  wife,  touching  his  arm  with 
her  fan.  "  What  has  become  of  Dr.  Randolph's  Tory 
ancestors  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "I  am  sure  we  were 
about  to  hear  something  of  unusual  interest." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  153 

"I  cheerfully  accept  my  corner,"  said  St.  Glair. 
"What  is  it,  doctor?" 

"  Let  me  explain,"  said  Clayborne.  "  Pray  sit  down, 
all  of  you.  Take  a  cigar,  St.  Clair,  and  keep  quiet." 

"  I  am  still  considering  your  quotation.  I  am  di 
gesting  the  vague,"  said  the  poet. 

"  Suicidal  cannibal !  "  cried  Vincent,  laughing. 
"  Go  on,  Dr.  Randolph." 

"  But  first  a  word,"  said  Clayborne.  "  Last  week 
my  neighbor  read  me  parts  of  his  maternal  grand 
mother's  diary.  It  seemed  to  me  well  worth  your 
hearing.  I  asked  him  to  read  it  to  you  to-night. 
Now,  then,  Randolph." 

"Thou  must  understand,  Friend  Clayborne,"  said 
the  doctor,  "  that  it  will  seem  disconnected.  That  I 
cannot  help.  I  have  marked  the  portions  which  deal 
with  her  personal  life.  The  rest  is  receipts,  memo 
randa  of  public  events,  of  deaths,  births,  and  the  like. 
She  was,  when  young,  a  good  girl  of  emotional  na 
ture.  She  was  born  and  brought  up  in  a  family  of 
Friends  of  the  best  type,  who  lived  plainly  and  accu 
mulated  wealth.  She  had  been  early  taught  the  valu 
able  lesson  of  self-discipline  and  absolute  obedience. 
This  discipline  she  readily  assimilated,  having  been, 
I  presume,  a  person  unusually  dependent  for  her 
ideas  and  beliefs  upon  those  with  whom  she  lived. 
Here  is  her  miniature,  painted  when  she  was  over 
thirty.  She  was  still  a  beauty.  In  later  years  the 
possession  of  wealth  made  her,  as  is  common,  more 
decisive." 

"The  face,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "is  still  one  of 
gentle  submissiveness.  It  has  a  look  of  tender 


154  DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

appeal,   as  if  she  felt  the  need  of    protection,   of 
guidance." 

While  the  picture  went  from  hand  to  hand  Ran 
dolph  read  aloud :  "  t  My  mother  tells  me  to  keep  a 
diary,  that  I  may  learn  to  write  better,  and  to  acquire 
what  she  calls  "  a  good  style."  I  do  not  know  precise 
ly  what  that  is.  I  must  try.  I  am  eighteen,  and  this 
is  the  first  day  of  Tenth  month,  1777.  My  mother 
says  to  begin  with  an  account  of  our  family.  My 
grandfather  came  over  in  the  Welcome.  He  was  the 
third  son  of  Jn.  Austin.  The  Austins  live  in  Thistle- 
ways  Hall.  This  is  in  Monmouthshire.  Cyril  Austin 
is  my  father.  He  is  a  Friend,  and  that  is  the  only 
religion  I  know  about.  There  are  others.  I  have 
wanted  to  see  Christ  Church  and  the  Meeting-house 
of  the  Swedes.  This  I  may  not.'  Here  follows  in  a  dif 
ferent  hand,  l  This  is  ill  wrote,  my  child.'  Then  she 
continues :  l  My  mother  writes  this,  but  I  can  do  no 
better.  My  father  grieves  for  that  the  laws  are  broke 
and  the  king  ill  used.  .  .  .  My  sampler  is  done.' 
Next  comes  a  receipt  for  pickling  of  walnuts,  and  so 
it  runs  on.  A  year  later  it  grows  interesting.  '  Was 
much  moved  First  day  by  the  words  of  Hosea  Morgan 
concerning  lightness  of  talk.  Made  good  resolves. 
Yesterday  I  was  in  the  sitting-room  darning  socks 
with  mother.  The  maid  said  a  young  man  was  with 
out  on  business.  When  he  was  fetched  in  he  said  his 
name  was  Trent.  He  had  been  to  see  my  father  to 
buy  certain  goods  for  the  supplying  of  his  slaves  in 
Maryland.  He  was  not  like  our  young  men,  for  only 
the  most  serious  are  let  come  to  see  us,  that  is,  me. 
I  must  not  write  that  this  young  man  was  pleasant 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS  155 

to  see.  He  was  dressed  very  fine  with  silver  buckles. 
I  will  set  down  what  he  said,  because  I  am  led  to  re 
cord  things  strange  to  me.  He  called  mother  "  mad 
am,"  and  kept  looking  at  me  j  but  this  is  the  world's 
way,  I  suppose.  I  must  get  used  to  it.  He  said, 
"  Madam,  Mr.  Austin  refuses  to  take  the  Congress 
money.  When  I  was  plainly  distressed  because  I 
have  little  other,  he  was  very  kind,  but  said  to  take 
it  was  against  his  conscience.  If  I  were  to  go 
around  to  Second  Street  to  his  house  and  see  you, 
madam,  there  might  a  way  be  opened.  I  thanked 
him ;  and  now,  whether  that  mysterious  way  open  or 
not,  I  am  well  rewarded  for  my  faith."  Then  my 
mother  said,  "  Thou  art  pleasant  to  say  so,  but  we 
are  plain  people,  and  I  do  not  fully  understand  thy 
words.  How  art  thou  rewarded?"  At  this  he 
bowed,  and  said,  "I  have  had  the  happiness  to  see 
what  I  have  heard  of,  a  Quaker  beauty  " ;  and  then 
this  young  man  bowed  to  me.  I  did  think  my  mother 
was  not  much  displeased,  but,  ah !  that  I  should  be 
told  such  a  thing  to  my  face.  My  mother  said,  "  Thy 
manners,  young  man,  are  forward.  Leave  the  room, 
Cyrilla.  This  is  a  matter  of  business."  "How  singu 
lar  !  "  he  said.  "  My  own  name  is  Cyril.  Cyrilla !  " 
Now,  the  way  he  said  "  Cyrilla  "  had  a  kind  of  sweet 
lingering,  as  if  he  meant  to  say  it  long.  I  think  he 
liked  it.  I  had  to  go.  I  did  not  want  to  go.  The 
rest  my  mother  told  me,  and  it  was  what  often  took 
place.  She  said,  "  Friend  Trent,  when  people  are  dis 
tressed  as  thou  must  be,  we  have  this  way  to  help 
such  as  are  in  real  need.  I  will  take  thy  continental 
money  and  give  thee  for  it  the  king's  gold.  The  dis- 


156  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

count  we  must  lose.  Thy  poor  slaves  shall  not  suffer." 
"  Madam/'  he  said,  "  it  is  true.  I  am  sore  pressed  to 
provide  in  these  evil  days  when  men  have  no  loyalty. 
I  hoped  to  have  been  paid  certain  debts.  Men  are  no 
longer  honest.  I  do  frankly  accept.  I  shall  be  able 
to  repay  it  at  some  future  day."  Thus  he  got  his 
money  and  went,  and  my  father's  conscience  was  set 
at  ease.  I  would  I  could  know  what  is  done  with  the 
money  of  Congress ;  for  to  buy  with  it  is  the  same  as 
to  take  it.  Perhaps  my  father  hath  one  way  to  see 
it,  and  my  mother  another.  I  dare  not  ask. 

" '  On  this  the  first  of  Second  month,  Fifth  day, 
'78,  I  met  the  young  man  near  to  the  State-house  on 
Fifth  Street.  He  took  off  his  hat,  and  might  he  es 
cort  me  home  ?  I  was  so  confused  I  could  not  speak. 
It  seemed  that  he  was  come  on  tobacco  business.  A 
ship  being  to  sail  from  Annapolis,  he  desired  my 
father  to  share  in  the  venture,  and  would  himself  go 
out  to  France,  as  was  to  be  supposed,  but  truly  to 
England. 

" '  Second  month,  twentieth ;  Sixth  day.  Friend 
Trent  comes  often  to  eat  dinner  and  to  sup,  and  by 
chance  we  have  met  elsewhere.  Oh,  it  must  be  wrong  ! 

"'Fourth  month,  twelfth;  Third  day.  I  knew  it 
must  come.  I  am  unhappy.  Cyril  Trent  hath  asked 
me  of  my  father,  and  he  will  not  hear  to  it.  The 
young  man  is  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  I  may  not 
even  see  him  again.  But  I  did,  this  Fourth  day,  and 
he  asked  me  to  go  with  him  and  be  married,  if  my 
father  will  have  it  or  not.  I  cannot.  It  would  be 
wicked.  But  I  love  him.' 

"After  this  we  hear  no  more  of  Cyril,"  said  Ran- 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  157 

dolph.  "  I  gather  that  he  went  to  England,  as  did 
many  good  loyalists,  and  no  wonder.  He  is  never 
named  again,  until  ten  years  later  she  writes:  <I 
shall  never  see  Cyril  Trent  in  this  life.  I  must  think 
of  it  as  a  dream  that  can  never  be  real.  I  do  hear 
that  he  hath  gone  to  India.' 

"  During  these  years  we  learn  that  her  father  and 
mother  die,  and  that  her  brother  and  she  divide  a 
great  estate.  There  are  large  gaps  in  her  diary.  We 
find  her,  at  last,  a  sad  woman  in  England  with  the 
Austins,  who  are  glad  to  see  the  rich  colonial  cousin. 
These  people  are,  as  she  first  says,  papists,  and  later 
Romish ;  then  at  last  she  speaks  of  them  as  Catholics. 
She  has  found  a  heart  home  in  that  church.  But  of 
the  lost  lover  there  is  no  word.  And  now,  when  she 
is  thirty-two,  she  goes  back  to  settle  her  affairs  and 
see  her  brother.  This  is  1791.  Here  I  find  written 
simply:  <I  go  home,  whither  business  affairs  call. 
I  dared  not  set  down  long  ago  that  when  Cyril  Trent 
went  away  he  did  tell  my  father  that  he  should  never 
change  (my  mother  used  to  look  over  my  diary),  but 
now  I  am  more  free  to  write.  My  father  answered : 
"It  is  thus  young  men  speak.  Time  will  change 
thee,1  and  thou  wilt  come  to  see  that  I  am  right. 
Thou  art  of  Rome  ;  we  are  of  Friends.  Hadst  thou 
been  of  us,  none  were  more  to  my  mind."  Then  I, 
being  in  the  back  room,  heard  Cyril  say,  "  I  may 
write?"  and  heard  my  father  answer,  "To  me,  if 
there  be  occasion  "  j  for  he  had  declined  Mr.  Trent's 
venture,  which  proved  an  ill  one.  A  privateer  took 
the  Nancy.  After  a  year,  my  mother,  seeing  me 

1  •'  I  do  fear  that  he  was  right "  (1791). 


158  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

pine,  told  me  Mr.  Trent  had  never  wrote,  and  this 
was  when  my  father's  partner,  Jasper  Morewood,  had 
leave  to  ask  me  in  marriage,  which  he  did  many 
times.  I  never  liked  him.  I  fear  now  I  may  lack 
courage  to  tell  my  brother  of  my  late  return  to  the 
church  of  our  fathers,  nor  will  he  be  pleased  with  my 
dress.  These  things  are  to  be  endured  with  patience. 
A  month  after  I  first  came  to  England  I  asked  of 
some  if  Cyril  were  alive.  None  knew.  Is  he  yet 
alive  ?  He  could  not  have  cared  for  me.  Sometimes 
he  is  out  of  my  mind  for  months,  and  then,  as  Mr. 
Goldsmith  did  say  to  my  cousin  of  a  lady,  u  he  comes 
unasked  and  takes  a  seat  in  the  best  room  of  my 
heart,  and  stays  as  he  pleases.  For,"  said  Mr.  Gold 
smith,  "  some  thoughts  seem  to  step  in  thus  from  the 
outside  without  so  much  as  the  ceremony  of  knock 
ing."  I  thought  it  pretty.  I  wonder  does  he  yet 
live.  Thrice  did  I  write  to  Cyril ;  but  if  my  father 
saw  my  letters  and  took  them  out  of  the  letter-bag,  I 
know  not.  He  had  a  right.  Or  if  they  ever  reached 
Cyril,  he  did  not  reply.  I  must  have  been  in  despair 
to  do  such  a  thing.  I  should  have  wrote  my  brother 
I  had  become  a  Catholic/ 

"Of  the  brother  we  have  no  word.  She  settled 
herself  in  a  home,  and  found  people  hostile  to  her 
and  her  creed,  as  was  common  in  those  days.  A 
year  later  she  writes:  'Ninth  month,  tenth;  Third 
day ;  (still  using  Quaker  forms).  1 1  have  had  a  great 
shock.  I  was  in  Wilmington  on  First  day.  As  we 
have  no  church  there,  I  walked  in  the  forenoon.  God 
willed  that  I  stayed  to  one  side  to  let  go  by  the 
Friends  who  were  coming  forth  from  meeting. 


DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  159 

Among  the  last  was  Cyril.  Although  in  the  plain 
dress  of  Friends,  I  knew  him,  and  he  me.  He  said, 
"  Cyrilla  !  "  and  I  could  but  gasp,  "  Cyril !  "  I  can 
write  no  more/ 

"A  week  later:  t Cyril  has  had  many  disastrous 
fortunes.  At  last,  being  poor,  he  took  to  the  sea,  and, 
rising,  became  mate  of  a  ship  plying  to  Bristol  in 
England.  There  falling  ill,  the  owner,  a  Friend,  took 
him  to  his  house,  where,  abiding  long  in  great  weak 
ness,  he  was  moved  by  their  kindness,  and  perhaps 
because  of  weakened  mind,  to  consider  the  cause  of 
so  much  goodness.  Finding  it  in  their  religion,  he 
became  a  Friend.'  Again  she  says:  'And  now  he  is 
become  what  I  was,  and  I  am  what  he  was.  In  a  play 
I  saw  in  London,  the  unhappy  lover  saith:  "If  I 
could  be  thou,  and  thou  I,  this  thing  would  be  other, 
wise  considered."  He  is  I,  or,  I  might  say,  being  a 
Quaker,  he  is  as  I  was.  But  then  it  was  my  father 
who  did  object,  and  not  I.  Mr.  Addison  once  said  to 
my  cousin  :  "  The  heart  hath  no  creed.  'T  is  a  pagan 
and  adores  idols,  but  its  litany  is  ever  the  same." ; 

"A  month  later  she  writes:  'Second  day.  I  saw 
that  Cyril,  being  poor,  is  yet  too  rich  in  pride  to  ask 
me  again.  Now  I  know  that  he  wrote  often  for  two 
years  and  had  no  reply  from  any,  not  even  my 
mother.  I  am  sure  my  father  had  no  hand  in  this 
matter.  He  was  of  an  open  life  and  mind.  It  has 
come  to  pass  that  I,  who  am  rich,  must  consider  his 
pride/  She  does  not  say  how  she  considered  it.  We 
may  guess. 

"  Soon  after  I  find :  i  We  were  married  in  St.  Peter's 
Church,  on  Pine  Street.  The  priest  of  my  own  church 


160  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

would  not  unite  us,  and  the  meeting  hath  renounced 
Cyril.  Mr.  Addison  had  reason.' 

"  There  is  more  of  it,  with  distinct  evidence  of  a 
happy  life,  and  the  record  of  the  birth  of  my  mother, 
Cyrilla  Trent. 

"  I  found  in  St.  Peter's  list  of  vestry  the  name  of 
Cyril  Trent  in  1794.  In  1798  both  died  of  yellow 
fever,  and  lie  buried  in  St.  Peter's  ground,  on  the  side 
near  to  Pine  Street." 

"  Then,"  said  my  wife,  "  both  compromised  on  the 
church— our  church." 

"Yes." 

"They  were  people  of  easy  religious  virtue,"  said 
St.  Clair,  "  like  me.  I  envy  them  the  experience  of 
three  forms  of  belief." 

"  Naughty  boy  !  "  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  But  who 
stole  the  letters  ? " 

"Ah,  there  comes  an  interesting  question,"  said 
Randolph.  "  I  forgot  to  tell  thee  that,  in  mentioning 
them,  she  says :  '  I  blush  to  think  who  may  have  read 
my  lost  letters  and  his,  too/  " 

"  She  may  be  blushing  now  at  the  thought  of  our 
talk,"  said  Sibyl,  "  if —if  people  blush  in  that  other 
world." 

"  But,  at  least,  we  know  she  was  happy,"  said  my 
wife.  "  She  had  the  good  fortune  not  to  outlive  the 
man  she  loved.  What  of  the  letters  ?  " 

"  I  have  them  here." 

This  greatly  excited  the  women. 

"  Oh,  let  us  see  them  !  " 

"That  you  shall  decide.  My  father  succeeded 
Cyrilla's  brother  in  their  India  trade.  On  his  death 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  161 

I  had  to  dispose  of  a  huge  mass  of  business  papers. 
These  I  burned,  or  most  of  them.  I  found  a  small 
red-leather  trunk  labeled  i  Jasper  More  wood.7  It  was 
locked.  Let  me  add  that  this  man  was  lost  at  sea  in 
1789.  He  left  no  heirs,  and  was  found  to  be  in  debt.  I 
broke  open  the  trunk.  In  it  I  found,  lying  open,  the 
much-amended  draft  of  a  letter  to  Cyril  Trent.  It 
seemed  to  have  been  meant  to  be  a  letter  from  Cyrilla 
to  her  lover,  giving  him  up,  and  hinting  cleverly  of 
another  engagement.  If  Morewood  used  it  to  forge 
a  completer  letter  in  her  handwriting  I  do  not  know. 
She  does  not  speak  of  the  matter.  In  any  case,  it  is 
strange  that  he  kept  the  draft." 

"  Ah,"  said  Vincent,  "  wiser  folks  have  done  this. 
There  are— I  have  seen  them— drafts  of  most  danger 
ous  letters,  written  during  the  Revolution  or  later. 
At  the  foot  of  some  of  them  the  writer  copies  the 
caution  on  the  letter  sent,  i Burn  this.'" 

"  That  is  hard  to  comprehend,"  said  Clayborne.  "  I 
have  seen  the  letters  of  which  Vincent  speaks,  and 
very  queer  they  are.  But  go  on,  Randolph." 

"  I  found,  too,  in  the  same  box,  three  letters  in  Mr. 
Trent's  hand  to  Mr.  Austin,  and  four  to  Cyrilla.  The 
three  letters  of  Cyrilla  to  Trent  were  separately  tied 
up  with  faded  ribbon.  The  letters  to  Mr.  Austin  had 
been  opened.  Those  I  left  at  home.  The  seven 
others  are  here— four  to  Cyrilla,  three  from  her  to  her 
lover." 

"  Oh,  do  let  us  see  them !  "  said  my  wife. 

"  A  moment ;  they  are  sealed,  all  seven." 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Sibyl,  "  he  never  read  them  !  How 
strange ! " 


162  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  No ;  he  had  not  opened  one  of  them.  I  mean 
that  Morewood  had  not  opened  them.  Those  ad 
dressed  to  Mr.  Austin  he  seems  to  have  opened  and 
read." 

"  Ah,"  said  Vincent,  "  that  is  still  stranger.  What 
stops  certain  men  on  the  ways  of  crime  has  always  in 
terested  me.  He  could  steal  letters,  perhaps  forge 
letters,  but  why  not  have  read  these  others?" 

I  sat  still,  puzzling  myself  over  this  human 
problem. 

"  Men  are  variously  made,"  said  my  wife.  "  What 
do  you  think,  Sibyl  ? " 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  meaning  her  reply  for  my  wife 
alone— "I  think— is  n't  it  possible  that  Morewood  so 
cared  for  Cyrilla  that  he  feared  the  hurt  of  reading 
what  Cyril  or  she  might  have  said  to  each  other  ?  " 

I  did  not  catch  all  of  my  wife's  answer,  but  did 
hear  her  say,  "  The  letters  to  Cyrilla's  father  were 
opened,  so  Dr.  Randolph  said." 

"  Yes ;  that  was  different,"  said  Sibyl. 

"  A  queer  business !  "  exclaimed  St.  Glair.  "  Let  us 
hear  them,  doctor.  Read  them." 

"  I  have  never  done  so,"  said  the  doctor.  "  The 
seals  are  still  unbroken.  Here  they  are." 

As  he  spoke,  he  laid  on  the  table  seven  letters. 
They  were  yellow  with  age,  a  century  old.  Trent's 
arms  were  on  three,  stamped  in  faded  red  wax. 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Anne  Vincent,  "  see,  Fred,  the 
grains  of  sand  still  on  the  addresses  of  the  letters 
from  Cyrilla ! " 

The  unopened  letters  invited  comment. 

"  Shall  we  open  and  read  them  ? "  said  Randolph. 


BE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  163 

"  No,"  said  Vincent ;  "  certainly  not." 

"  Shall  we  read  and  not  open  them  f "  said  St.  Clair. 
"  I  can  tell  what  they  wrote." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  cried  Clayborne. 

"  Then  let  us  vote,"  said  St.  Clair.  He  asked  each 
in  turn,  "  Shall  we  open  them  ? " 

"  I  am  neutral,"  said  Clayborne.  "  It  is  quite  im 
material." 

All  the  rest  said  "No/7  until  he  came  to  Miss 
Maywood. 

"  Burn  them,"  she  said. 

"  Burn  them  I  But  I  want  to  see  them,"  said  St. 
Clair. 

"  No,  no.  Cyrilla  is  waiting ;  she  is  blushing,"  said 
Sibyl.  "  Please  to  burn  them.  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
she." 

"  Thou  art  right,"  said  Randolph.  "  Do  with  them 
as  thou  wilt,  Friend  Sibyl." 

Sibyl  gathered  the  letters  from  the  table,  and  rising 
with  her  usual  difficulty,  amid  entire  silence,  cast 
them  one  by  one  into  the  fire.  Then  she  stood 
watching  them  as  they  burned.  Something  in  her 
attitude  troubled  my  wife,  who  said,  "  What  is  it, 
dear?" 

"  Nothing,  only  they  moved  like  live  things.  Cy 
rilla  must  have  been  uneasy.  Now  she  thanks  us." 
With  this  Miss  Maywood  turned,  and  stood  as  if  in 
thought.  It  was  an  impressive  little  scene,  and  we 
were  still  silent.  Then  she  looked  at  St.  Clair,  who 
was  the  first  to  stir,  and  added,  "  You  should  not 
have  wanted  to  see  the  letters." 

"  But  I  did." 


164  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Yes,  that  is  a  pity— a  pity." 

She  moved  toward  him  as  she  spoke,  emphasizing 
her  words  with  a  deprecatory  movement  of  uplifted 
hands.  And  always,  I  may  add,  she  used  her  arms 
with  distinctive  grace.  As  she  passed  Mrs.  Vincent, 
she  leaned  over  and  whispered. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  returned  the  woman  addressed.  "  You 
were;  we  all  are— all  women  should  be.  These  men 
would  have  opened  them.  Are  you  going  to  leave 
us?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  tired.  I  must  go.  I  am  sleeping  here 
to-night." 

As  she  passed  St.  Clair,  he  said :  "  I  can  write  Cy- 
rilla's  letters  if  you  want  them." 

"  I  do  not,"  said  Sibyl,  with  decision.  She  stead 
ied  herself  by  touching  the  table,  and,  as  we  stood 
up,  said,  "  Good  night ;  good  night,  every  one."  She 
was  a  little  flushed  and  very  delicately  beautiful,  as 
she  lingered,  smiling,  with  large  trustful  eyes  like 
those  of  childhood. 

After  this  we  thanked  the  pessimistic  doctor,  and 
soon  went  away.  As  we  sat  in  the  train,  Vincent 
said :  "  Men  who  think  all  things  bad  never  act  up  to 
their  beliefs.  The  logical  outcome  of  true  pessimism 
would  be  suicide.  This  man  fought  well,  is  a  good 
citizen,  an  untiring  helper  of  his  fellow-men." 

"  Did  you  see  Miss  Maywood,"  said  I,  "  when  she 
swayed  as  she  left  us  ?  Clayborne  gave  her  his  arm. 
She  said  so  pleasantly,  '  There  is  always  help/  She 
has  the  instinctive  trust  of  a  seeking  tendril." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  my  wife;  and  we  lapsed  into 
silence. 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  165 

When  this  young  woman  next  saw  my  wife,  she 
said :  "  Do  you  think  Mr.  St.  Clair  could  write  a  let 
ter  of  love  to  be  like  those  we  burned  ? " 

"  Probably.     He  would  do  it  well." 

"  I  cannot  imagine  it.  Nothing  seems  to  me  so  re 
mote  as—" 

"  As  what,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  As— well,  I  was  thinking— but  here  is  Mary." 


N  Wednesday  Clayborne  came  to  tell  me 
that  we  must  take  Sibyl  and  himself 
for  a  week,  because  of  plumbers  in  his 
house.  We  were  all  well  pleased,  and 
none  more  than  Alice,  for  on  this  Satur 
day  there  was  to  be  a  woman's  convention  in  favor  of 
female  suffrage.  Delegates  were  expected  from  States 
as  remote  as  Florida  and  Montana,  and  many  subjects 
of  interest  were  to  be  discussed  besides  the  main  ques 
tion.  My  wife  was  always  attracted  by  such  refor 
matory  movements  as  were  to  end  in  fulfilling  the 
prophet's  words :  "  The  Lord  hath  created  a  new  thing 
in  the  earth,  A  woman  shall  compass  a  man."  When 
it  came  to  putting  in  practice  certain  of  these  re 
forms,  she  soon  began  to  see  so  many  difficulties  that 
her  brief  enthusiasm  by  degrees  faded  away.  To  the 
ludicrous  aspect  of  some  of  the  changes  advocated 
she  was,  perhaps,  even  too  sensitive.  Her  friend 
Anne  Vincent  once  said :  "  My  dear,  I  hope  I  shall 
never  present  myself  to  you  as  laughable.  A  jest  to 
you  is  what  the  sternest  logic  is  to  Mr.  Clayborne." 
This  was  certainly  clever,  but  hardly  true,  and  was 
only  half  meant.  Indeed,  a  good  deal  of  Mrs.  Vin 
cent's  brilliant  talk  at  times  needed  the  gentle  exegesis 
of  friendly  disbelief. 

This  especial  Saturday  was  to  be  devoted  to  the  Anti- 
Dress  League— a  title  from  which  modesty  seemed  to 

166 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  167 

me  to  demand  explanatory  comment.  My  wife  ex 
plained  that  it  was  meant  to  advocate  economy  in 
dress.  When  I  said  to  Anne  Vincent  that  I  presumed 
she  would  be  the  chairman,  she  replied  coldly  that  she 
herself  was  going  out  of  pure  curiosity  j  that  as  to 
economy  in  dress  among  women,  it  was  like  disarma 
ment  among  the  nations  :  who  would  begin  ?  Then 
my  wife  explained  that  she  meant  to  oppose  the  whole 
movement  as  being,  in  the  event  of  success,  cruel  to 
working-women.  I  did  observe  that,  as  an  emphatic 
example  of  their  views,  both  ladies  were  equipped  for 
this  occasion  in  a  manner  to  excite  the  envy  of  the 
economic  many. 

No  reporters  of  either  sex  were  to  be  present,  which, 
perhaps,  was  as  well,  for  I  heard  that  it  was  finally 
considered  wise  to  apply  this  money-saving  measure 
at  first  to  the  garments  which  are  unseen. 

There  was  to  be  some  kind  of  feast  in  the  evening, 
and  I  was  therefore  left  free  to  ask  our  usual  party 
of  men  to  dine.  To  these  I  added  Randolph  and 
Haro,  an  old  army  comrade.  When  I  told  Clay- 
borne,  he  said: 

"  Of  course  that  means  endless,  futile  war  talk." 

As  I  could  not  deny  it,  I  advised  him  to  dine  alone 
and  to  attend  a  lecture  by  one  of  the  Western  lady 
professors.  My  wife  had  hesitated  between  the  dress- 
reform  dinner  and  this  lecture.  I  was  amused  when 
Clayborne  took  me  gravely,  and  I  had  to  look  for  the 
program.  "  It  is,"  I  said,  "  on  <  The  Tertiary  Man.'  " 
Then  I  did  say  that  my  wife,  unlearned  in  geology, 
had  observed  that  up  to  this  time  she  had  been  con 
tent  to  consider  him  as  Secondary. 


168  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

This  was  lost  on  Clayborne.  He  did  not  even  stay 
to  examine  it  logically,  but  merely  said : 

"By  the  way,  Haro  knows  about  that  confounded 
road  and  your  abominable  friend.  I  shall  stay  and 
dine  here." 

"  Well,  you  are  warned  ;  expect  a  camp-fire  gossip." 

We  dined  merrily,  discussing  the  woman  movement 
and  less  serious  matters.  When  we  came  to  my 
father's  old  Madeira,  we  fell  upon  the  war,  as  Clay- 
borne  had  predicted.  It  came  about  in  this  wise: 
John  Haro  was  a  well-built  man,  with  a  red  head, 
now  well  mixed  with  gray.  He  was  a  railroad  presi 
dent,  and  a  person  of  most  efficient  character. 
Courageous,  ready-witted,  and  resolute,  he  had  an 
enviable  war  record,  and  came  out  of  the  struggle  a 
brigadier,  declining  a  higher  brevet  rank.  As  is 
common  among  us,  he  was  plain  Mr.  John  Haro  on 
his  card,  and  was  rarely  called  by  the  title  won  on 
the  battle-fields  of  Virginia.  I  was  one  of  the  few 
who  still  called  him  general,  and  yet  not  many  men 
in  the  world  had  seen  more  battles.  When  I  spoke 
of  his  disregard  of  a  well-won  title,  Randolph  re 
marked  that  he,  too,  had  almost  forgotten  that  Haro 
had  ever  had  such  a  label. 

Vincent  observed  that  at  the  North,  after  the  great 
war,  by  popular  consent,  nobody  under  the  rank  of 
major  was  addressed  by  his  army  title.  He  went  on 
to  say  that  many  men  of  much  higher  rank,  like 
Haro,  never  used  their  old  titles. 

Clayborne  added  that  it  was  all  true,  especially  of 
the  Northern  States,  and  that  although  we  were  sup 
posed  in  England  to  be  fond  of  titles,  we  certainly  did 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  169 

not  cling  to  them  as  retired  officers  of  all  grades  do  in 
England,  even  men  who  have  seen  no  more  martial 
service  than  that  of  an  escort. 

From  titles  the  talk  fell  upon  names  and  surnames. 
Vincent  quoted  Addenda  and  Octopia  as  names  which, 
although  used  in  fiction,  were  real  appellations.  Haro 
said  the  drollest  he  knew  of  were  given  by  an  Irish 
tutor  who  called  his  twins  Gem  and  Mini.  This, 
oddly  enough,  had  to  be  explained  to  Clayborne,  who 
admitted,  as  I  never  heard  him  do  before,  that  he  was 
mind-blind  to  certain  forms  of  the  comic.  St.  Glair, 
laughing,  declared  that  he  should  be  forgiven  if  he 
could  match  Haro's  illustration.  Clayborne  replied 
promptly  that  the  name  of  a  once  famous  bishop  of 
London  was,  he  thought,  as  remarkable.  This  man,  he 
said,  was  a  poet,  and  wrote  on  Death.  He  advised  St. 
Clair  to  read  it.  Here  Clayborne  forgot  the  promised 
name,  and  began  to  lecture  on  the  limited  jurisdiction 
of  the  episcopate  of  London,  which  did  not  cover  the 
Temple  Church  or  the  Abbey.  We  were  used  to  this, 
and  when  we  got  him  back  to  the  starting-point  he 
told  us  that  the  bishop  was  called  Belly  Porteus. 
His  parents  were  Virginians,  but  if  he  were  born  in 
that  colony  Clayborne  did  not  know.  We  voted  the 
name  matchless,  and  wondered  at  the  parental  cour 
age,  and  whence  it  came. 

Then  Vincent,  whose  range  of  reading  was  wide 
and  often  unusual,  said  quietly  : 

"  May  not  you  be  mistaken  in  this  name  ? " 

St.  Clair  said  once  that  when  Vincent  was  sure  he 
was  apt  to  be  perilously  gentle. 

Clayborne  replied :  "  I  quote  from  Walsh's  l  English 


170  DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

Poets/  that  amazing  collection  of  forgotten  poet 
asters." 

"  It  is  a  misprint/'  said  Vincent.  "  It  should  be 
'  Beilby.' " 

"  Good  heavens !  "  ejaculated  the  scholar ;  but 
whether  he  exclaimed  surprise  at  an  inaccuracy  or  at 
the  oddness  of  the  blunder  I  never  learned. 

Randolph  then  asked  why  certain  names  seemed 
vulgar  or  were  considered  common. 

"Question  of  usage/'  said  I,  "if  you  mean  Chris 
tian  names ;  but  much  might  be  said  of  this  matter. 
Let  us  ask  Clayborne  to  report  on  it."  They  agreed 
to  this,  laughing,  while  Clayborne  retired  into  the  her 
mitage  of  his  own  mind  to  turn  over  all  the  accumu 
lations  of  memory  on  the  subject  we  set  before  him. 

Meanwhile  Haro  said:  "There  is  a  pretty  story 
about  names  which  Mrs.  North's  mother  told  me. 

"  Lord  E was  calling  on  Mrs.  K ,  and 

chanced  to  remark  that  the  names  on  the  signs  in 
England  showed  how  much  of  the  good  blood  of  the 
old  families  had  been  scattered  everywhere,  but  that 
here  he  saw  only  common  names  on  the  signs.  This 

aroused  the  indignation  of  Mrs.  K 's  daughter, 

a  girl  of  fifteen.  i  But/  she  said,  '  they  do  have 
homely— oh,  really  vulgar  names  in  England.  I  saw 
in  the  Peerage—' 

"  Mrs.  K exclaimed  in  her  sternest  voice,  l  My 

dear ! ' 

"  His  Lordship,  somewhat  curious,  and  desirous  to 
be  further  informed,  said,  i  Pray,  my  child,  let  us 
hear.' 

"  Upon  this,  the  young  lady,  in  no  wise  dismayed, 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  171 

went  on:  'In  the  Peerage  I  saw  the  name— oh, 
there  are  others  as  queer— the  name  of  Lady  Cecilia 
Buggins.  Now,  is  n't  that  a  vulgar  name  ? ' 

"His  Lordship  said,  'Oh,  quite  remarkable';  and 
Mrs.  K promptly  turned  the  talk  into  more  pleas 
ant  ways,  while  the  culprit  was  silenced  by  a  frown 
which  might  have  been  a  survival  of  the  mother's 
memories  of  Lady  Macbeth.  When  his  Lordship  had 

gone  Mrs.  K said:  'Well,  my  dear,  you  have 

covered  yourself  with  glory.  Lady  Cecilia  Buggins 
is  his  Lordship's  aunt.' 

"  '  Then  I  am  glad,'  said  the  young  woman." 

"Charmingly  told,  Haro,"  said  Vincent;  and,  as 
we  made  laughing  comments,  Clayborne,  returning 
to  our  world  again,  said  to  Haro :  "  Your  own  name 
interests  me.  It  is  the  Norman  war-cry,  '  Haro, 
haro ! ' " 

The  general  returned,  smijing :  "  Yes,  if  it  has  not 
a  baser  agricultural  origin.  I  suppose  some  loud- 
voiced  ancestor  may  have  howled  l  Haro '  louder  than 
the  rest,  and  got  it  for  a  name." 

"It  was  heard  in  battle  later,"  said  I,  "when  our 
fellows  hesitated  at  the  Bloody  Angle  in  the  Wilder 
ness,  and  a  friend  of  mine  called  out,  '  Come,  boys ! ' 
Your  men  cried  out,  '  Haro,  Haro  ! '  and  they  rushed 
it.  My  friend  Francis  told  me  he  heard  it." 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Haro,  flushing  a  little  at  a  splen 
did  memory. 

"  A  little  Smoke,"  I  said,  pushing  toward  him  the 
wine  we  call  "  Smoke  Madeira,"  because  of  its  singu 
lar  smoke-like  bouquet. 

"A  great  wine,"  said  Vincent,  "and  a  fine  story. 


172  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

Were  not  you  caught  after  Antietam  ?  Tell  us  about 
it,  Haro.  I  have  heard  it  only  at  second-hand." 

"  Certainly,  if  you  would  like." 

I  saw  Clayborne  light  a  cigar  and  fall  back  in  his 
chair,  resigned  to  his  fate. 

Haro,  who  well  knew  our  friend's  peculiar  ways* 
said :  "  I  shall  make  it  mercifully  brief. 

"  After  McClellan  allowed  Lee  to  get  away  over  the 
Potomac,  I  was  for  a  few  days  in  charge  of  the  intel 
ligence  department.  We  got  no  trustworthy  news. 
Jackson  had  shot  two  of  our  spies,  which  rather  dis 
couraged  the  rest.  At  last  I  saw  the  general,  and 
said  I  had  resolved  to  go  over  and  see  what  was 
going  on.  He  said  this  was  not  my  business,  and  I, 
that  it  was.  I  was  then  only  a  lieutenant-colonel. 
I  persisted,  and  at  last  I  was  told  to  do  as  seemed 
best  to  me. 

"  Now,  I  am  a  bit  of  -a  naturalist,  and  hunt  bugs 
and  other  vermin.  I  had  then  two  pet  rattlers  which 
I  kept  in  a  stout  wicker  basket.  I  had  taken  out 
their  fangs  and  poison-glands,  wishing  to  see  if  then 
they  would  lose  immunity  to  their  own  venom.  My 
staff  was  never  quite  satisfied  with  my  precautions. 
One  day  I  laid  down  on  this  basket  a  lighted  cigar. 
An  aide  came  in  for  orders.  I  said,  t  Sit  down.'  He 
did,  on  the  cigar.  As  he  felt  the  fire,  the  snakes  be 
gan  to  rattle.  The  aide  cried  out,  '  Great  heavens,  I 
am  bitten ! '  and  fled  to  seek  a  surgeon.  He  was  so 
laughed  at  that  he  left  the  staff.  That  ;s  incidental. 
I  got  a  linsey-woolsey  outfit,  two  vials  of  beetles,  and 
my  little  basket  of  snakes.  A  Methodist  clergyman, 
who  wanted  to  go  South,  went  with  me.  We  got 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  173 

over  the  Potomac  far  up  the  river,  and  slipped  through 
the  pickets  after  some  adventures.  I  shook  off  my 
preacher,  and  was  a  lost  naturalist  caught  in  the  army 
net.  Fact  is,  I  lived  two  days  with  the  doctor  of  the 
Fourth  Georgia,  who  was  in  the  same  line.  I  was 
talking  bugs  with  the  doctor  in  front  of  his  tent, 
when  an  old  major  of  regulars  stopped.  'You  look 
mighty  much  like  that  fellow  Haro  who  was  a  plebe 
at  West  Point  when  I  was  in  command.'  This  un 
fortunate  reminiscence  was  addressed  to  me. 

"  My  doctor  said,  nonsense  ;  I  was  Professor  Cyrus 
Burton  of  Williams  College,  and  I  was  trying  to  get 
away  North.  My  doctor  assured  him  that  he  had 
been  promised  a  pass  for  me.  The  major  insisted 
that  I  should  go  with  the  doctor  next  day  and  clear 
things  up  with  the  provost  marshal.  I  said  I  would 
go  with  the  major  at  once.  This  bluff  answered,  es 
pecially  as  he  was  rather  in  a  hurry  and  had  some 
outpost  duty.  The  doctor  said  for  form's  sake  he 
would  go  with  me  in  person  next  day  to  get  my  pass, 
but  that  I  was  all  right. 

"  I  had  no  least  desire  to  visit  that  provost  marshal. 
I  got  away  late  that  night  to  an  old  mill  on  the  Poto 
mac  ;  but  as  it  was  then  near  dawn,  it  was  too  bright 
to  risk  the  riverside  guard  and  a  swim.  I  hid  all 
day.  No  one  was  about.  Next  night  at  dusk  I  got 
ready  to  leave,  but  just  then  I  saw  a  score  of  men 
with  intrenching-tools  coming  to  occupy  my  mill.  I 
was  lost.  I  went  up-stairs,  and  on  the  way  let  out 
my  snakes  on  the  first  landing.  This  was  to  give  me 
time.  I  ran  up  to  the  loft.  The  rattlers  saved  me. 
My  snakes  held  the  fort  for  five  minutes  in  a  truly 


174  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

loyal  fashion.  They  fortunately  had  no  convictions 
as  to  their  being  bankrupt  in  poison  and  harmless. 
Accordingly,  they  rattled  furiously  on  the  dark  stair 
way  and  struck  at  every  one  who  came  near.  There 
was  a  tremendous  row  before  my  gallant  outpost  was 
destroyed.  They  saved  my  neck.  I  got  the  time  to 
look  hastily  about  me.  I  saw  hanging  up  a  dirty 
United  States  cavalry  jacket  and  a  battered  undress 
cap.  I  put  on  both,  and  stuffed  my  wide-awake  felt 
hat  and  my  coat  into  a  flour-barrel. 

"  Well,  they  caught  me,  bugs  and  all,  and  I  was 
tried  as  a  spy.  Luckily,  I  was  miles  away  from  my 
doctor.  Two  fellows  swore  they  had  been  at  West 
Point  with  me.  I  went  out  of  the  bug  line,  said  I 
was  Lieutenant  Peter  Starling,  Company  B,  Fourth 
Pennsylvania,  of  the  Third  Corps,  and  was  in  uni 
form.  This  bluff  bothered  them.  One  man  said  I 
was  not  Haro.  I  saw  him  years  afterward.  He  said 
he  was  sorry.  I  never  liked  to  ask  why. 

"  Then  I  had  a  great  bit  of  good  luck.  The  major 
was  too  inquisitive  on  the  skirmish-line,  and  got  a  ball 
through  his  shoulder,  which  lessened  his  interest  in  the 
outside  world.  If  I  knew  who  shot  him  he  would  have 
a  fat  place  on  my  road.  They  could  prove  nothing.  I 
was  sent  to  Libby  Prison.  There  I  licked  a  lieutenant 
of  Connecticut  volunteers  because  he  insisted  I  was 
Haro.  I  had  tried  in  vain  to  make  him  hold  his 
tongue.  The  preacher  who  crossed  with  me  was 
finally  sent  back  into  our  lines,  and  put  himself  and 
me  in  the  paper,  names  and  all.  Tom  Alston,  my 
chief  of  staff,  wired  that  journal  that  I  was  ill  at 
home  with  pneumonia,  and  the  sermon  he  wrote  that 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  175 

preacher  contained  many  promises  and  was  calcu 
lated  to  insure  silence. 

"  After  a  month  I  was  one  of  a  lot  that  dug  them 
selves  out.  I  was  pretty  near  to  going  back.  I  was 
hid  in  a  log  hut  near  Charlestown,  West  Virginia,  with 
some  nice  Quaker  people.  Three  soldiers  came  into 
the  yard.  I  gave  up.  Well,  a  girl's  kiss  saved  me. 
She  swore— or  said— I  was  Cousin  Joe,  and  was  kiss 
ing  me  in  a  very  worldly  fashion  as  they  entered. 
It 's  a  pretty  addition,  but  you  have  had  enough. 
That  girl's  husband  and  brother  are  on  my  road,  but 
to  this  day  she  gets  red  when  I  drop  in  at  Cross-roads 
station.  A  long  story.  I  had  to  tell  it  in  blocks.  I 
saw  that  major  last  week.  He  said  I  had  had  a  nar 
row  escape.  I  hate  walking.  I  must  have  walked 
three  hundred  miles."  «, 

"  That  reminds  me,"  said  Randolph,  "  of  the  colonel 
I  saw  at  Avoca  in  North  Carolina.  It  was  last  year. 
He  declined  to  walk  a  few  miles  to  our  yacht,  and 
said  he  never  walked;  had  had  enough  to  last 
him  all  his  life.  I  asked  him  when  that  was.  i  Oh, 
in  the  war;  walked  three  hundred  miles  with  that 
blank  villain  Sherman  after  me.  No  more  walking 
for  me ;  have  a  horse  hitched  every  morning  to  the 
paling-fence.  Throw  your  leg  over  him,  and  there 
you  are.  Why  should  a  gentleman  walk?'  I  told 
this  to  General  Sherman,  to  his  great  amusement." 

"  Your  escape,  Haro,"  said  I,  "  recalls  to  me  Harry 
Wilson's.  There  was  a  smart  little  fight  on  the  Ka- 
nawha.  The  Rebels  caught  Wilson  and  his  orderly. 
Harry  was  a  very  clever  young  surgeon,  and  as  the 
Rebs  had  no  surgeon,  and  we  had  supplied  them  well 


176  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

with  wounded,  lie  did  his  best  for  them.  Next  day 

they  sent  him  across  country  to  see  General  S , 

who  was  in  command.  This  officer  had  a  Minie  ball 
through  his  ankle.  Wilson  said  the  leg  must  be  am 
putated.  There  was  no  chloroform  or  ether.  The 
tourniquet  was  put  on,  and  the  leg  taken  off.  Then 
Wilson  stopped.  '  Before  I  tie  these  arteries/  he  said, 
*  I  must  make  a  bargain.  You  are  to  send  me  over 
our  lines.' 

"  The  general  said  he  would  not  do  it. 

"  Wilson  said,  (  Then  I  shall  leave  you  to  die  of  the 
bleeding/ 

"  The  general  said  he  would  have  him  shot. 

"  Harry  said  that  a  bullet  was  to  be  preferred  to 
Andersonville. 

"  Ttoe  general  said  Wilson  was  a  something  or 
other  scoundrel,  and  Harry,  that  now  he  must  both 
apologize  and  let  him  go  free. 

"  The  situation  was  critical ;  the  general  yielded. 
Harry  stayed  a  week  looking  after  the  damaged  Rebs, 
and  was  duly  sent  into  our  lines.  The  general  prom 
ised  that  if  ever  he  caught  him  again  he  would  make 
it  unpleasant." 

"  Ethically  considered,"  said  Vincent,  "  that  is  a 
valuable  story.  Was  your  man  justified,  Owen?  I 
think  not." 

Randolph  agreed  with  Vincent.  I  was  in  no  least 
doubt  that  he  was  wrong. 

Haro  said  grimly :  "  I  have  been  in  Libby.  I  de 
cline  to  vote." 

Clayborne  said  that  he  had  no  business  to  help  any 
of  them.  But  this  most  kindly  old  scholar  was 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  177 

savage  only  in  talk  or  with  the  pen.  "We  rated  him 
soundly.  He  was  one  of  the  first  to  send  help  to 
Charleston  after  the  war. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  I,  "  Wilson  told  me  that  when 
the  general  was  hit  he  sat  down  and  cried  like  a 
child." 

"  One  of  the  effects  of  shock/'  remarked  Randolph. 

"  Colonel  A was  hit  in  the  arm  at  Gettysburg, 

just  as  his  regiment  was  going  into  the  fight.  He 
was  about  to  mount,  and  when  the  ball  smashed  his 
wrist  he  ran  along  the  line,  calling  out,  l  Run,  run  j 
the  Rebs  are  on  us/  " 

"  Cerebral  shock,"  said  I. 

"Yes;  he  was  of  faultless  courage,"  continued 
Randolph.  "  In  a  minute  he  was  again  clear  of  head. 
He  found  the  ambulance  people,  had  the  arm  am 
putated,  and,  returning,  commanded  his  regiment 
through  the  rest  of  the  fight." 

"Did  he  not  suffer  afterward?"  asked  Vincent. 

"  Yes,"  said  Randolph  •  "  it  was  past  the  endurance 
of  mortal  nerves.  I  think  I  reported  the  case." 

Clayborne  had  become  interested.  He  inquired: 
"  Was  that  the  man  who  later  was  wounded  at  Fort 
Fisher,  and  for  a  day  was  thought  to  be  dead  ? " 

"  No  j  but  we  have  had  enough  of  doctors  and 
wounds.  Pass  the  wine,  Fred." 

"But  was  that  man  really  thought  to  be  dead?" 
asked  Clayborne. 

"Yes;  he  was  an  officer  of  distinction,  and  was 
carefully  examined.  He  revived  just  in  time  to  escape 
being  embalmed." 

"  Cheerful  that,"  said  Vincent. 


178  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  And  would  you  mind  my  telling  you  a  story  ? " 
asked  Clayborne.  "  It  may  interest  you  doctors." 

Said  St.  Clair,  who  had  taken  but  a  small  share  in  the 
talk :  "I  was  about  to  speak  of  what  I  have  seen  in 
India." 

"  My  own  tale  is  of  the  East,"  said  Clayborne. 

"  I  resign  in  your  favor." 

"  Then  I  wish  to  begin  by  saying  that  I  heard  it 
from  two  witnesses— my  cousin  Tom  Church  and  an 
old  sea-dog,  Captain  Barr,  at  that  time  a  mate." 

" Pardon  me,  Clayborne,"  said  Vincent ;  "if,  as  I 
presume,  your  story  is  of  resuscitation  after  apparent 
death,  I  had  once  in  a  suit  for  damages  to  consider 
the  literature  of  this  question.  The  evidence  in  Dr. 
Cheyne's  famous  case  is,  or  would  be,  considered  of 
dubious  value  to-day.  I  am  sure  that  the  Indian  cases 
are  frauds.  But  go  on,  Clayborne." 

"Well,  my  cousin— a  doctor— and  the  mate  went 
ashore  to  shoot  ducks  near  Whampoa  in  China.  This 
was  in  1818.  As  they  were  going  back  to  their  boat, 
a  big  Chinaman  claimed  pay  for  his  tame  ducks, 
which  he  swore  they  had  shot.  There  was  an  angry 
altercation.  The  Chinaman  used  rather  too  strong 
Pidgin-English,  and  the  mate  knocked  him  down. 
My  cousin  and  the  mate  fled  amid  a  hail  of  stones 
from  a  mob  of  Chinese,  and  went  on  board  the  ship, 
which  had,  as  I  remember,  the  odd  name  of  Garnadiffe. 
This  was  at  dawn.  Before  noon  came  a  mandarin. 
He  said  the  man  was  dead.  They  must  pay  twelve 
hundred  dollars  or  go  ashore  for  trial.  Both  offers 
were  declined.  Barr  said,  i  We  want  to  see  the  dead 
man.'  At  evening  came  a  funeral  of  sampans,  a  kind 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  179 

of  boat.  There  were  mourners  in  yellow,  and  in  ad 
vance  a  sampan  with  the  corpse,  a  mandarin,  and  a 
retinue  of  other  boats.  At  first  they  talked  over  the 
ship's  side.  Then  my  cousin  was  invited  to  come 
down  and  inspect  the  departed  one.  Barr  said  yes, 
but  first  they  must  secure  the  boat.  This  was  agreed 
to.  The  Chinamen  had  a  good  case.  The  hoisting- 
tackle  was  without  suspicion  fastened  to  the  two 
hooks  at  the  bow  and  the  stern  of  the  sampan. 

"Then  my  cousin  and  the  mate  went  down  the 
ship's  side.  The  man  was  dead.  A  mirror  failed  to 
show  the  moisture  of  breath.  He  was  tickled,  burned 
with  a  cigar,  and  otherwise  ingeniously  dealt  with. 
No  one  spoke,  and  the  dismayed  men  at  last  went 
back  to  the  deck  of  their  ship  to  consult.  My  cousin 
said,  'That  is  certainly  the  man,  Barr,  and  he  is 
dead/ 

"  *  But  who  killed  him  ?     I  surely  did  not/ 

"Barr  gave  an  order.  At  once  the  men  on  the 
ship  began  to  haul,  and  the  sampan  rose  out  of  the 
water.  There  was  a  howl  from  the  mourners.  Barr 
cried  out  that  they  meant  to  keep  him  until  he  was 
high,  and  explained  in  crude  Pidgin-English  what  he 
meant  by  'high.'  'If  he  goes  the  way  of  honest 
corpses  we  will  pay.  Haul,  my  lads ! '  Upon  this 
arose  the  corpse,  plunged  overboard,  and  swam  in  a 
lively  fashion  to  the  nearest"  boat.  This  is  a  true 
story.  My  cousin  told  it  to  me,  and  years  after  Barr 
repeated  it  without  important  variations." 

"  Rather  startling/7  said  Vincent. 

"  What  is  startling  ? "  said  my  wife,  standing  in  the 
doorway.  "  Come  to  the  drawing-room,  and  have  tea, 


180  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS 

and  be  thankful,  Owen,  that  I  did  not  bring  home 
some  economic  ladies.  I  am  quite  cured  of  economy 
in  dress." 

"  Had  you  ever  the  disease  ? "  cried  Vincent,  and  we 
went  up  to  tea  laughing. 

" Do  you  believe  that  story?"  said  Randolph, as  we 
followed  Clayborne. 

"I  do.  I  know  a  stranger  one,"  said  Vincent. 
"  No  j  not  now.  It  is  long.  It  gave  a  name  to  an  old 
house  not  far  from  here— a  house  dear  to  some  of  us 
for  many  memories  of  gracious  hospitality.  Another 
time.  Remind  me." 

"I  certainly  shall,"  said  Randolph.  "You  mean 
Champlost,  of  course." 


XI 

WEEK  or  two  later  in  the  year  we  prom 
ised  to  go  to  the  studio.  St.  Glair  had 
been  at  work  on  a  pedestal  for  Keats's 
vase,  and  desired  us  also  to  see  the 
bust  of  Xerxes  Crofter. 
It  was  about  4  P.M.  when  we  entered.  Vincent  was 
too  busy  to  come  early.  We  found  Clayborne  seated 
in  a  corner,  deep  in  a  book  on  Greek  vases.  Sibyl 
Maywood  was  in  a  chair  in  front  of  the  vase,  and  to 
her  St.  Clair  was  reading  with  passionate  emphasis 
the  poem  of  Keats. 

He  paused  as  we  came  in,  and  greeting  us,  said : 
"  I  was  just  saying  to  Miss  Maywood  that  in  English 
there  are  but  two,  perhaps  three,  poems  which  deal 
with  their  subjects  as  this  does.  It  makes  throughout 
an  unusual  claim  on  the  receptive  imagination,  and  fail 
ing  of  this  interpretive  aid  must  seem  pure  nonsense. 
There  are  elsewhere  lines,  passages,  verses,  which  ask 
the  same  form  of  unreserved  mental  sympathy,  but 
here  the  need  runs  through  the  whole  poem.  There 
is  in  it  the  undying  springtime  of  joy  and  love.  I 
never  liked  the  last  two  lines.  They  lack  relation  to 
the  rest  of  it.  Truth  may  be,  in  a  sense,  beautiful  j  it 
is  not  beauty ;  and  is  beauty  truth  ?  I  wish  he  had 
lived  to  alter  the  lines.  I  am  self-assured  he  would 
have  done  so." 

13  181 


182  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  How  joyously  extravagant  it  is ! "  said  Mrs.  Yin- 
cent.  "  I  have  no  heart  to  quarrel  with  it.  The  other 
poem  is,  of  course,  Shelley's  fantasy  of  the  skylark  j 
and  the  third?" 

"No  one  has  seen/'  said  St.  Clair,  laughing. 
"  Look  at  my  pedestal." 

It  was  of  white,  or  rather  of  rose-gray,  marble, 
square,  and  about  two  feet  and  a  half  high.  Above 
was  a  wreath  of  grapes  and  leaves  carried  around  all 
four  sides.  Below  were  lilies.  In  front  he  had  set 
a  noble  relief  of  the  dead  face  of  Keats,  and  had 
given  it  a  look  such  as  I  had  never  seen  in  a  marble 
face. 

"What  is  it  gives  that  tenderness  to  the  closed 
eyes?7'  I  asked. 

"  Look  j  go  nearer,"  he  replied.  "  I  have  ventured 
to  indicate  by  chisel  touches  on  the  lower  lids  the 
sweep  of  his  eyelashes.  I  shall  be  told  it  is  not  good 
art.  I  don't  care  an  etcetera.  You  like  it  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,"  said  my  wife.  "  Where  have  I  seen 
that  before?  Oh,  now  I  remember.  It  is  on  the 
tomb  figure  of  Guidarello  Guidarelli  at  Ravenna." 

"  Yes,  that  beautiful  thing.  I  have  succeeded,  have 
I  not?  Now  look  at  the  two  sides.  At  the  back  I 
have  put  a  broken  hour-glass." 

On  one  of  the  two  sides  was  a  Greek  youth  in  re 
lief,  and  on  the  other  side  a  girl's  face.  Seeing  it, 
we  looked  at  one  another,  but  made  no  remark.  It 
was  Sibyl.  I  do  not  think  she  recognized  herself; 
indeed,  I  am  sure  she  did  not,  a  fact  which  surprised 
me. 

My  wife  moved  around  to  the  front  of  the  pedestal, 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  183 

and  said :  "  Anne,  the  face  of  Keats  has  a  look  of 
'  lifelong  struggle  merged  in  peace  '—rest,  if  you  like. 
I  see  a  line  beneath  it.  What  is  it?  Ah,  that  is 
prettily  used,"  and  she  read : 

"  When  old  age  shall  this  generation  waste, 
Thou  shalt  remain." 

St.  Clair  suddenly  threw  a  sheet  over  vase  and 
pedestal,  and  turning  away,  said:  "Here  is  my 
Xerxes.  I  have  done  him  justice."  He  cast  the 
cover  off  the  marble  and  stood  aside. 

He  had  done  him  stern  justice.  All  the  features 
were  strangely  exaggerated.  It  was  a  brute,  hard, 
inflexible,  rapacious,  and  capable— a  terrible  likeness. 

"  The  deuce  !  "  exclaimed  Vincent,  coming  up  be 
hind  us,  having  just  come  in. 

"  Yes,  he  is  the  devil.  I  hope  he  will  like  it.  All 
the  man  is  there.  I  have  taken  vengeance  for  many. 
But,  by  George !  it  is  Xerxes." 

"Will  he  like  it?"  said  I. 

"  Who  cares?     I  would  bet  he  will  like  it." 

"  He  will  not,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  It  is  justice 
without  charity."  f 

"  He  will  like  it,"  said  Vincent.  "  What  do  you 
say,  Sibyl?" 

"Say?  It  is  horrible.  I  cannot  look  at  it  any 
more.  It  is  wicked,  wicked,"  and  she  walked  away. 

"  A  very  good  likeness,"  said  Clayborne ;  "  rather 
too  strongly— well— accentuated." 

The  artist  had  given  the  eyes  a  slight  slant  down 
ward  and  inward.  It  was  that  which  gave  the  look 
of  Mephistophelian  intelligence. 


184  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Yet  it  is  not  a  caricature,"  said  St.  Clair. 

"  No,"  said  I.  "  There  is  here  only  an  intensifying 
of  all  the  worst  expressions  which  belong  to  the 
man's  face,  as  men  must  have  seen  it  at  different 
times.  It  excites  no  laughter  in  one  who  looks  at 
it." 

"But  should  a  caricature  always  do  that?"  said 
my  wife. 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  St.  Clair. 

"  Yours  would  be  a  dangerous  art  if  you  always 
used  it  to  bring  out  on  the  face  subtle  confessions  of 
all  that  is  bad  in  the  man,"  said  I. 

"Why  not  all  that  is  good?"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 
"  Your  bust  is  uncharitable.  You  do  not  let  us  see 
that  this  man  has,  as  Mr.  Clayborne  says,  the  virtue 
of  fidelity  to  his  pledges.  He  is  not  a  liar.  He  is  not 
avaricious.  He  has  courage.  He  keeps  his  word." 

"That,"  laughed  St.  Clair,  "must  amazingly  add 
to  the  difficulties  of  a  career  like  his." 

"  Let  us  drop  him,"  said  Vincent.  "  He  has  been 
too  long  in  decent  society.  Let  me  see  the  vase." 

St.  Clair  said :  "  No ;  not  to-day.  You  will  find 
tea  in  the  drawing-room." 

Why  he  was  unwilling  I  do  not  know.  Vincent 
did  not  urge  him. 

As  we  went  out,  Mrs.  Vincent  detained  him. 

"  Why,"  she  asked,  "  did  you  put  Sibyl's  face  on 
the  pedestal  and  your  own  ? " 

"  Oh,  because  her  face  has,  like  the  girl's  face  on 
the  vase,  a  history  of  joy  which  can  never  mature  or 
be  more  than  it  is.  And  then,  it  is  beautiful,  and  I 
wanted  to  do  it." 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  185 

"  Do  you  always  do  what  you  want  to  do,  Victor?" 

"  Generally." 

"  Without  thought  of  consequences,  Victor  ? " 

When  she  called  him  Victor  he  knew,  as  he  said, 
that  he  was  vanquished. 

"You  sometimes  make  friendship  difficult,"  he 
said. 

"  In  order,"  she  replied  bravely,  "  to  keep  it  from 
becoming  impossible." 

"  What  ami  to  do?" 

"  I  do  not  know."  She  was  vexed,  annoyed,  void 
of  counsel.  But  she  said,  in  her  just  anger:  "It 
was  a  great  liberty,  and  you  put  it  there  because  she, 
too,  is  never  to  realize  maturity  of  joy.  Incredibly 
brutal,  I  call  it." 

"Vae  victis  !  "  he  groaned.  "  I  will  smash  the  whole 
thing.  Habet";  and  he  followed  the  indignant 
woman,  who  sat  down  to  her  tea  in  silent  wrath. 


XII 

HEN  St.  Clair  saw  any  "beautiful  thing 
it  produced  an  effect  which  seemed  to 
leave  him  for  a  time  in  a  mood  of  sim 
ple  adoration.  This  often  showed  in 
strong  emotion.  Great  music  moved 
him  to  tears.  As  regards  nature,  I  am  sure  that  he 
was  free  from  affectation.  A  flare  of  crimson 
possessing  the  sky  to  the  zenith  is  to  me  beautiful, 
and  something  indefinably  more.  When  he  said  to 
me  that  it  was  terrible,  I  know  that  he  meant  what 
he  said.  All  novel  forms  of  beauty  in  women  or  in 
men  caused,  as  I  have  said,  uncomplicated,  childlike 
admiration.  It  had  at  times  awkward  results,  for  no 
woman  was  ever  yet  able  to  accept  the  possibility  of 
a  man's  admiration  not  going  deeper  than  the  limit 
set  for  beauty  by  the  proverb.  St.  Clair,  when  in 
one  of  these  moods,  was  soon  willing  to  supply  all 
manner  of  excuses  for  what  he  called  creating  the 
"  prosperity  of  opportunity."  In  plain  terms,  he 
would  pay  his  art  idol  enough  attention  to  give  the 
desired  occasions  for  study  of  face  or  form.  After 
this,  at  some  uncertain  date,  came  by  degrees  the 
analytic  condition  of  mind,  when  faults  were  seen  and 
the  causes  of  grace  or  beauty  more  and  more  coldly 
and  critically  considered. 

I  once  saw  him  much  disturbed  in  the  presence  of 
186 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  187 

Lawton,  the  botanist,  who  was  pulling  a  magnolia- 
flower  to  pieces  as  he  studied  it,  pistil  and  stamen. 
The  artist  could  not  be  made  to  see  the  analogy  when 
reproached  with  his  own  analytic  studies  of  the 
natural  history  of  the  beautiful  in  human  beings. 

He  was  just  now  filled  with  admiration  of  the 
face  and  hands  of  Sibyl  Maywood.  It  is  probable 
that  the  crippled  body  may  have  contributed  by 
its  sad  contrast  to  the  charm  of  a  face  which,  we 
long  afterward  agreed,  could  not  be  fitly  described. 
That  it  was  of  rare  beauty  was  plain.  That  it 
was  classic  in  form  was  obvious.  But  it  had  also 
spiritual  expression,  such  as  comes  to  the  simple- 
hearted  or  high-minded  from  the  death  of  some  one 
greatly  loved,  but  never  from  mere  temporal  trial  or 
disaster.  On  this,  too,  we  were  at  one.  Had  the  ex 
pression  I  mean  been  capable  of  definite  description, 
it  would  not  have  had  the  quality  which  gave  a  deli 
cate  unearthliness  to  all  the  silent  language  of  her 
changeful  features. 

The  winter  went  on,  and,  as  several  of  us  were 
busy,  we  met  more  rarely.  Vincent  was  here  and 
there  trying  cases.  Mrs.  Vincent  was  occupied  with 
her  many  charities.  My  wife  was  struggling  in  the 
interests  of  the  newly  endowed  university  for  wo 
men.  She  wished  it  to  consist  of  a  group  of  cottage 
homes  where,  besides  the  higher  studies,  there  should 
be  taught  the  art  and  the  science  of  the  one  natural 
profession  for  which  no  college  trains  young  women. 
She  was  having  bad  luck,  and  was  seriously  troubled 
by  the  possible  loss  of  a  noble  opportunity.  St.  Clair 
was  in  one  of  his  prolonged  moods,  which  we  had 


188  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

learned  to  forgive.  He  might  be  in  the  city,  and  yet 
never  see  us  for  a  month,  and  then  make  up  for  it  by 
bothering  the  busy  with  daily  visits.  Both  Clayborne 
and  I  were  writing  books,  and  the  scholar  was  twice 
absent  on  business  in  the  West. 

Mrs.  North  still  tenderly  cared  for  Sibyl,  and  now 
and  then,  when  Clayborne  was  long  absent,  asked 
her  to  visit  us  for  a  week  or  more.  Our  daughter,  who 
was  now  in  her  fifth  year,  had  for  Sibyl  one  of  those 
passionate  attachments  seen  at  times  in  little  girls 
for  their  elders.  As  usual,  it  was  imitative.  "  I  am 
Sibyl,"  she  said  one  day,  and  began,  to  her  mother's 
horror,  to  walk  with  an  excellent  simulation  of  the 
gait  of  Miss  Maywood.  When  told  not  to  do  so,  she 
said :  "  But  I  can't  help  it,  mama.  I  am  Sibyl."  As 
for  Miss  Maywood,  she  loved  the  little  one,  related 
stories,  and  taught  her  songs  in  a  clear,  true  voice  of 
great  sweetness  and  no  great  volume.  It  was  a 
pretty  love-affair,  useful  to  the  child,  valuable  to  Sibyl. 

One  day,  early  in  May,  Mrs.  Vincent  asked  me  to 
call,  as  she  desired  to  talk  to  me  of  Sibyl,  who  was 
then  at  Holmwood  for  a  week  during  Clayborne's 
absence. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ? "  she  asked.  "  I  see  Alice, 
but  you  men  are  invisible." 

"  Mr.  Clayborne  is  off  again.  He  is  building  a  few 
miles  of  rail  to  connect  his  lines  with  another  main 
line.  Xerxes  declares  this  to  be  against  their  agree 
ment.  Clayborne  says  he  made  no  such  agreement, 
and  is  joyous  over  the  chance  of  a  lawsuit.  Vincent 
is  equally  happy  in  the  likelihood  of  having  a  shot  at 
Xerxes." 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  189 

"  Really,  you  men  are  a  quarrelsome  folk.  But  I 
want  to  talk  about  Sibyl.  Do  you  know  that  Victor 
St.  Clair,  whom  I  never  see,  goes  almost  daily  to  visit 
her  ?  He  takes  her  flowers,  he  reads  to  her.  You 
know,  Owen,  it  is  the  old  story.  The  only  time  I 
have  seen  him  of  late  he  raved  about  her  beauty. 
He  says  she  is  like  that  broken  marble  head  in 
Rome,  in  the  museum  of  the  Baths  of  Diocletian, 
is  n't  it  ?  The  one  we  agreed  to  call  the  '  Sleeping 
Vestal'" 

"  Yes,  I  recaU  it,"  said  I.  "  He  is  right." 
"  Oh,  that  man,  Owen !  He  has  left  her  face  on  the 
pedestal,  although  he  promised  he  would  not.  This 
girl  is  susceptible  to  passion;  she  is  sensitive  to  all 
forms  of  beauty ;  and  we  know  how  fatal  this  man's 
ways  and  looks  have  been.  She  was  meant  to  love 
and  to  be  loved.  Ah,  Owen!  How  will  it  end? 
She  is  utterly  unconventional.  In  a  little  while  St. 
Clair  will  drop  her  as  he  has  done  others.  The  ana 
lytic  stage  will  come,  of  which  we  have  talked  so 
often,  and  after  that—  Ah,  it  is  sad,  sad !  Some  one 
must  talk  to  him.  I  said  so  months  ago.  You 
thought  me  hasty." 

"  Will  you  do  it  now,  Mrs.  Vincent  ?  " 
"  I  must.  I  must,  I  suppose.  Fred  sees  it.  He 
is  greatly  concerned.  Bring  the  man  to  me.  I  have 
written  to  ask  him  to  call.  He  made  no  answer.  He 
has  probably  forgotten.  Why  do  we  all  care  for 
him  ?  Why  does  Clayborne  spoil  him,  and  leave  that 
girl  alone?  Really,  friends  add  terribly  to  the  re 
sponsibilities  of  life." 

I  drove  at  once  to  St.  Glair's  house.     I  found  him 


190  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

lying  on  the  lounge,  gazing  at  Sibyl's  profile.  He 
had  already  begun  to  justify  Mrs.  Vincent's  pre 
diction. 

"  It  is  not  as  interesting  as  I  thought/'  he  said,  as 
I  entered.  "  The  drop  from  the  brow  down  the  nose 
is  not  quite  Greek.  I  altered  it  in  the  rilievo.  The 
mouth  is  a  trifle  too  large.  It  is  too  expressive.  You 
may  have  noticed  that.  I  saw  it  only  last  week.  I 
am  to  take  a  mold  of  her  hand.  That  is  match 
less.  People  do  not  observe  hands.  Clark  told  me 
last  week  that  he  had  just  painted  three  children 
for  one  of  our  freshly  millioned  men.  One,  a  boy, 
had  a  beautiful  right  hand;  his  left  was  that  of  a 
peasant.  But  this  boy  was  left-handed  and  expert 
with  tools." 

"That  is  curious,"  said  I.  "Did  you  get  a  note 
from  Mrs.  Vincent  ?  " 

"Yes,  but  I  forgot— oh,  here  it  is."  It  was  un 
opened. 

"  Do  you  value  that  woman's  friendship  ?  You  are 
near  to  the  loss  of  it." 

"  I  ?  What !  I  would  give  her  or  Vincent  my  life 
at  need." 

"  Then  give  her  an  hour  of  it  and  make  your  peace. 
The  people  who  would  give  a  million  and  do  not  give 
a  penny  are  not  made  for  friendship.  We  do  not 
want  the  million.  We  often  want  the  penny." 

"  Damn  your  financial  parables !  I  will  go  now  j 
no— I  will  go  to-night." 

I  made  him  dress  and  go  with  me  at  once.  Pre 
tending  an  engagement,  I  left  him  with  the  vexed 
woman.  What  passed  I  heard  next  day. 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  191 

"Say?  What  did  I  say,  Owen  North?  I  said, 
1  Victor,  you  have  neither  heart  nor  conscience.' " 

"  That  was  a  promising  beginning.     What  next  f  " 

"I  said:  'You  go  to  see  Sibyl  daily,  even  when 
Clayborne  is  absent.  You  take  her  flowers.  You 
read  to  her.  You  take  her  books.  And  you  do  it  all 
merely  to  look  at  her.  It  is  cruel.  You  could  do  no 
more  if  you  meant  to  marry  her.' 

"  '  Good  heavens,  marry  her !  I  am  not  fit  to  open 
a  door  for  her.' 

"  i  Do  not  dare  to  defend  yourself/ 

"  i  But  I  do  not—' 

"  i  Then  do  it.  You  are  past  endurance.  Have  you 
begun  to  see  faults  in  her  face  ? ' 

"  St.  Clair  flushed.  *  A  girl  in  her  condition,  with 
that  tormented  frame,  must  know  that  for  her  love, 
marriage,  is  impossible.  I  have  only  made  her  life 
happier,'  he  said.  1 1  have  not  the  vanity  to  presume 
—to  dare  to  believe—' 

" i  Victor,  you  have  no  right  to  exasperate  me  by 
adding  fiction  to  folly.  I  have  seen  these  little  trage 
dies  before.  Usually  I  did  not  care  for  the  victim. 
This  time  it  is  different.  If  Sibyl  Maywood's  body 
is  crippled,  her  heart  is  not.  It  does  not  reason—' 

"  '  I  wish  you  would  not  talk  about  her  as  crippled. 
It  is  a  horrible  word.' 

"  l  Nonsense.  You  will  drop  her  of  a  sudden,  and 
hurt  us— through  her.  You  are  incapable  of  a  quiet 
friendship  for  this  dear  child  whom  God  has  seen  fit 
to  afflict.  You  will  only  make  life  for  her  sadly  diffi 
cult.  I  do  not  see  why  we  all  care  for  a  man  whose 
art  makes  him  so  selfish.' 


192  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"'Nor  I,'  said  St.  Clair.  <I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  see. 
What  can  I  do?' 

"  l  It  is  humiliating  to  a  woman  to  have  to  say  these 
things.  Make  some  excuse.  Go  away.  God  grant 
it  may  not  be  too  late.  Go  somewhere.  To  any  other 
man  I  should  say,  stay  and  amend  your  ways.  You 
are  good  at  excuses.  Find  one.' 

"  l  But  I  have  engagements.     I  have—' 

"  l  I  never  before  knew  them  to  stand  in  your  way.' 

" 1 1  am  sorry.  I  will  go.  But  it  does  seem  a 
little  absurd.  I  really  do  not  want  to  go  now.' 

" l  Victor,  if  you  wish  me  ever  to  speak  to  you 
again,  you  will  go  at  once.  Let  me  add,  dear  friend, 
that  Fred  entirely  agrees  with  me.' 

"  '  Oh,  hang  Fred  !     I  can  stand  the  women.' " 

He  was  like  a  child.  He  took  his  story  to  my  wife, 
and  what  she  said  I  do  not  know.  It  troubled  him. 
As  he  went  out,  he  met  my  little  maid.  She  looked 
at  him,  and  said:  "Mr.  Wictor,  have  you  been  vewy 
naughty  to-day  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  poet.  "  Bad  with  a  big  B  and  a 
big  D  before  it !  " 

"  Oh,  my !  "  said  Mary.  "  What  do  they  do  to  you 
when  you  are  bad  ? " 

"  They  whip  me  with  whips  no  one  can  see." 

"  They  would  n't  hurt,"  said  the  maid. 

Early  next  day  I  found  St.  Clair  gaily  singing  as  he 
packed  his  trunk. 

"  You  will  have  your  will,"  he  said.  "  I  am  going. 
And,  confound  it,  do  these  women  think  I  am  going 
to  kneel  down  and  confess  ?  I  had  far  rather  go.  O 
Lord !  they  know,  do  they  ?  They  think  they  know 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  193 

everything.  N'importe.  Don't  tell,  but  you  should 
have  seen  Anne  Vincent's  mise  en  scdne  for  my  trial. 
The  room  was  twilight  dark,  and  the  dear  lady  was  in 
some  amazing  black  lace,  and  not  a  rose  anywhere. 
Unluckily,  Mrs.  Leigh  came,  but  the  set  was  not  for 
her.  She  sat  down  on  the  open  piano.  I  was  so  sorry 
that  woman  could  not  swear.  She  went  soon.  I 
know  her  disaster  contributed  ferocity  to  the  dismal 
after-scene." 

"  You  do  not  seem  much  the  worse  for  it,"  I  said. 

" No,  perhaps  not."  He  became  grave.  "My  dear 
Owen,  you  have  sometimes  misunderstood  me.  It  is 
really  possible— no,  I  decline  to  explain,  even  to  you. 
But  try  not  to  think  too  ill  of  me.  While  I  am  away, 
write  me  now  and  then,  and  do  not  be  such  an  ass  as 
to  think  it  needful  never  to  speak  of  Miss  Maywood. 
You  will  want  to  know  my  plans.  It  is  May.  I  am 
going  to  ride  through  the  Virginia  mountains.  I  do 
not  know  where  else  I  may  go.  I  think  of  going  to 
live  in  Paris.  I  am  never  bad  there.  t  Not  bad/  you 
say  ?  '  Only  thoughtless/  Yes,  it  requires  a  good 
deal  of  intelligence  to  be  good.  Do  get  these  notes 
answered  for  me."  There  were  a  dozen  or  more.  "  I 
did  not  show  you  this.  I  have  had  it  a  month." 

It  was  a  telegram :  "  Bust  first-rate.  Make  another 
for  my  house.  Check  by  mail,  $2000.  If  not  enough, 
wire.  XERXES  CROFTER." 

"  And  you  answered  ? " 

"  Yes.  I  wrote  a  copy  of  my  reply  on  the  back  of 
this  telegram.  <  Can't  do  two  busts.  Busy.  Consider 
pleasure  of  making  bust  sufficient  pay.  Can't  accept 
money  which  is  not  your  own.  ST.  CLAIR.'  " 


194  BE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  And  he  ?     What  did  he  say  f " 

"  Here  is  his  answer :  '  Guess  it  was  worth  while 
to  bust  me.  Don't  understand  what  you  mean  about 
money.  Check  sent.  CROFTER.'  Then  I  wired: 
1  Check  returned.  ST.  CLAIR.'  I  wrote  <  Plunder ' 
across  the  face  of  his  check,  and  mailed  it  to 
Xerxes." 

"  Give  me  these  telegrams.  I  want  to  show  them 
to  Vincent."  ; 

So  far  I  had  expressed  no  opinion.  St.  Clair  was 
in  a  sensitive  mood,  dissatisfied  with  himself,  vexed, 
and  with  as  yet  no  more  real  conscience  about  the 
trouble  his  esthetic  madness  made  than  was  provided 
for  him  unasked  by  the  less  eccentric  morality  of  his 
friends.  What  mischief  there  was  to  be  made  out  of 
the  matter  of  this  bust  was  already  made.  It  was 
now  useless  to  scold  him.  He  returned  to  his  pack 
ing  business,  while  I  stood  re-reading  these  astonish 
ing  telegrams. 

Presently  St.  Clair  looked  up.  "  Why  the  deuce 
don't  you  say  something,  Owen?  I  seem  to  please 
no  one  just  now,  not  even  myself." 

Thus  challenged,  I  said :  " Neither  Vincent  nor  I  will 
agree  with  you.  You  should  not  have  replied  as  you 
have  done.  You  should  not  have  made -that  bust 
what  you  did.  It  was  unfair.  It  was  not  the  way 
to  punish  him." 

"  Confound  it,  Owen  !     It  was  the  only  way." 

"  Then  no  way  were  the  better  way.  And  there 
is  no  more  to  say.  Xerxes  is  learning  many 
things,  some  good  and  some  bad.  A  little  charity 
might—" 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  195 

"  I  can't  run  a  Sunday-school  for  brigands.  Hang 
the  fellow !  " 

"  Yes,  with  pleasure.  But,  truly,  it  is  not  easy  to 
deal  fairly  with  a  man  like  this,  who  is  cultivating  for 
the  first  time  the  decencies  of  life.  Something  between 
kicks  and  kisses  seems  to  me  the  thing.  I  have 
obliged  him,  I  have  set  him  on  his  feet  again,  and  I 
feel—" 

"  Yes,  by  George !  Dr.  Frankenstein,  you  are 
welcome  to  the  man  you  have  remade.  You  are 
responsible  for  whatever  beastly  things  he  may 
do." 

"  And  for  all  your  sins,  dear  old  boy,  since  I  pulled 
you  out  of  that  typhoid  scrape  years  ago." 

"  Quite  true.  It  has  kept  me  easy  in  mind  ever 
since.  But,  oh,  here  is  the  end  of  our  correspondence. 
I  did  not  finish.  Here  is  his  reply :  '  My  old  doctor 
used  to  say,  "  Foolitis  is  an  incurable  disease."  You 
have  it  badly.  I  have  the  bust.  CROFTER.'  " 

"  You  come  out  pretty  even." 

"  No ;  he  has  not  yet  seen  the  fun  of  it.  He  sent 
the  bust  to  the  New  York  spring  exhibition.  Here  is 
what  the  '  Tribunal '  says  of  it.  Take  it  with  you. 
Perhaps  Mrs.  Vincent  will  forgive  me  when  she  reads 
it." 

I  ran  over  the  article  as  he  resumed  his  task. 

"  There  is  one  bust,  <  X.  C.,'  by  Victor  St.  Glair, 
which  is  a  strange  and  powerful  work.  It  is  No.  30. 
If  the  man  is  like  it,  we  are  sorry  for  him.  It  should 
be  labeled,  '  The  Scapegoat.'  Probably  it  will  turn 
out  to  be  a  class-leader  or  a  Sunday-school  superin 
tendent.  The  face  looks  as  if  it  carried  all  the  sins 


196  BE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

of  the  people.  It  is  questionable  whether  an  artist 
has  a  right  to  set  out  on  a  man's  features  all  his 
worst  attributes.  A  suit  for  defamation  of  character 
should  be  in  order." 

"  You  will  hear  from  Xerxes  yet,  Victor,  or  you  may 
never  hear.  He  is  said  to  have  a  good  memory  and 
to  be  unforgiving.  No  one  can  say  what  he  will  do. 
I  fancy  him  more  likely  to  avenge  material  injuries, 
but,  like  Clay  borne,  he  sometimes  finds  joy  in  battle, 
and  fancies  a  trial  of  sharpened  wits.  I  think  him 
by  nature  good-humored." 

"  Well,  so  far  I  am  the  boy  on  top.     Good-by." 

"  Ah,  one  thing  more,  Victor.  Have  you  done  any 
thing  about  that  bas-relief?  You  took  a  great  lib 
erty,  and  when  you  put  your  own  face  on  the  other 
side  you  did  a  worse  thing." 

"  I  altered  my  phiz  on  the  vase  and  on  the  pedestal. 
I  will  not  touch  the  other — never,  never !  Great 
heavens,  it  is  beautiful !  I  shall  keep  the  pedestal, 
and  that  is  all  I  will  do." 

I  felt  that  enough  had  been  said.  "  Write  me  a 
line,  Victor.  Don't  quite  forget  us.  You  have  a 
mighty  talent  for  neglect." 

I  went  away  thinking  of  the  two  men  for  whom  I 
was  so  hopelessly  responsible.  Then  came  to  my 
mind  certain  other  cases  of  people  whom  I  had  made 
well,  and  who  for  years  came  to  me  at  intervals  for 
help.  I  recall  one  hapless  and  grotesque  little  hunch 
back,  who  was  paralyzed.  I  asked  a  despairing  sur 
geon  to  let  me  try  my  hand  on  his  case.  The  lad, 
who  was  about  fifteen,  got  well.  Then  he  came  to 
me  and  calmly  told  me  I  ought  to  help  him.  "  If  you 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  197 

had  let  me  die  I  would  n't  have  been  a  trouble  to 
nobody.  You  oughter  of  let  me  died." 

I  started  him  as  a  shoeblack.  He  sold  out  in  a 
fortnight  at  a  loss.  I  set  him  up  in  a  market-stall 
for  fruit.  He  did  no  business,  and  lived  on  his  own 
apples.  Next  we  put  capital  into  a  peanut-stand.  As 
to  this  bankruptcy  I  am  less  clear.  On  each  financial 
defeat  he  assured  me  that  I  was  to  blame  for  keeping 
a  helpless  cripple  alive.  In  despair,  I  found  for  him 
a  home  as  doorkeeper  in  an  asylum  for  incurables. 
He  reproached  me  for  thus  classing  a  person  willing 
to  work,  and  was  meekly  indignant. 

One  day,  somewhat  later,  I  met  Haro  and  Clay- 
borne  in  Vincent's  office,  and  chanced  to  mention  my 
sad  experience,  apropos  of  a  friend  who  was  credited 
with  unusual  intelligence,  but  who  somehow  failed  in 
all  his  undertakings. 

It  amused  Haro,  and  we  fell  into  talk  about  the 
causes  of  failure  in  the  conduct  of  life.  It  was 
interesting  to  note  the  variety  of  reasons  given  for 
unsuccess  by  these  successful  men. 

Vincent  said :  "  Of  course  one  presumes  the  man, 
like  our  friend,  to  have  mental  competence.  Granting 
that,  lack  of  persistent  energy  is  the  common  cause  of 
failure  in  my  profession,  and  also  the  lesser  qualities 
are  often  fatally  wanting,  such  as  good  manners, 
tact,  patience." 

"In  my  own  profession,"  I  said,  "  these  lesser  charac 
teristics  occasionally  assist  men  to  win  who  are  really 
inferior  to  some  who,  for  want  of  this  group  of  minor 
social  qualities,  miss  the  place  they  would  otherwise 
attain." 

14 


198  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

Clayborne  said  briefly :  "  I  think  I  should  have  suc 
ceeded  in  any  line  of  life  to  which  I  had  given  myself , 
but  one  must  give  one's  self." 

"  As  a  soldier  ? "  I  asked. 

"No.  I  lack  power  of  quick  decision.  I  take  it 
that  in  war  a  rare  few  are  intellectually  stimulated  by 
peril,  and  thus,  in  time  of  danger,  see  with  instinctive 
clearness,  every  sense,  every  power,  being  quickened 
by  the  need  of  the  moment.  It  is  like  the  periods  of 
inspiration  which  at  times  come  to  poets,  or  are  said 
to." 

Haro,  who  was  an  example  of  this  capacity  for  swift 
decisiveness,  smiled,  and  the  talk  passed  into  a  discus 
sion  of  the  varieties  of  courage  or  want  of  it  seen  in 
war. 


XIII 

|T.  CLAIR  was  gone  seven  weeks.  He 
had  the  grace  to  write  Miss  Maywood 
that  he  had  an  errand  in  the  South. 
When  he  came  back  he  was  at  his  best. 
"  Was  he  forgiven  ? n  he  asked  Mrs.  Vin 
cent.  He  had  seen  a  woman  in  West  Virginia  j  such 
a  figure  !  But  art  was  perilous  among  the  mountain 
people.  He  had  commented  upon  her  figure  to  her 
husband,  and  been  promptly  asked  what  the  blank 
was  it  his  business.  Mrs.  Vincent  said  she  was  glad, 
and  hoped  the  experience  would  prove  of  permanent 
value. 

As  it  was  now  near  to  summer,  we  were  all  of  us 
about  to  flit  in  different  directions,  and  we  were  to 
dine  with  Clayborne  before  we  separated.  On  our 
way  to  Holmwood,  in  the  train,  Mrs.  Vincent  said  to 
me:  "Sibyl  is  not  looking  well.  I  have  arranged 
with  Mr.  Clayborne  that  she  is  to  go  with  Fred  and 
me.  He  has  no  idea  that  one  can  overuse  a  human 
machine.  The  girl  is  tired.  I  think  I  told  you  or 
Alice  that  we  have  taken  a  cottage  on  the  bay  at  Bar 
Harbor.  It  is  a  pleasant  wilderness.  Few  people  go 
there.  The  anchorage  for  the  yacht  is  good.  You 
must  come  and  see  us,  you  and  Alice  and  the  maidie. 
Alice  says  yes.  St.  Glair  is  behaving  himself  beauti 
fully."  ' 

199 


200  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"Yes;  his  present  love-affair  is  our  little  Mary. 
That,  at  least,  can  do  no  harm." 

"  I  wish  I  thought  the  other  matter  had  done  none. 
Sibyl  is  changed.  She  is  less  simple.  I  came  upon 
her  in  my  drawing-room  yesterday  looking  at  St. 
Glair's  photograph.  She  put  it  down  hastily  and 
took  up  another." 

"  It  may  be,"  said  I,  "  that  our  knowledge  and  our 
fears  come  too  late.  She  is  not  strong.  She  has  a 
weak,  insufficient  heart.  But  then  time  is  a  great 
doctor." 

"  Yes,  soon  or  late  he  cures  all  human  ills,"  she  re. 
turned  sadly. 

At  the  back  of  Clayborne's  house  he  had  built  out 
an  ample  semicircular  addition  to  the  wide  veranda. 

"  Come,"  he  said ;  "  we  dine  out  of  doors." 

We  followed  him,  and  found  the  table  set  on  this 
porch.  It  was  covered  with  roses.  At  this  time  of 
the  year  and  at  this  hour  we  needed  no  artificial 
light.  Beyond  the  garden  the  view  was  limited  by  a 
thin  wood  fringe  which  hid  the  stone-walled  space  I 
have  already  described.  The  round  table  brought  us 
close  together,  and  all  were  gayer  than  common, 
pleasingly  excited  by  the  novelty  of  dining  out  of 
doors.  Moreover,  we  had  this  day  a  vintage  cham 
pagne  past  praise. 

Sibyl  was  in  unusual  spirits,  in  one  of  her  childlike 
moods  of  what  seemed  to  me  at  times  too  excessive 
gaiety.  The  talk  was  certainly  well  fitted  to  arouse 
mirth,  and  she  clapped  her  hands  joyously  as  she 
listened. 

St.  Clair  was  telling  of  that  verbal  duel  with  Xerxes, 


DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  201 

of  which  Vincent  and  I,  at  least,  were  already  in 
formed.  She  laughed  at  the  narration,  but  said  no 
word  of  approval  to  St.  Clair.  A  moment  later,  turn 
ing  to  me,  she  discussed  quietly  the  ethics  of  the 
matter.  She  thought  the  artist  had  not  been  fair. 

"  I  am  curious  about  your  foe,"  said  my  wife  to  St. 
Clair.  u'Tell  us  more  about  him.  Does  he  talk 
much?" 

"  Sometimes  steadily  all  through  a  sitting.  Some 
times  he  did  not  speak  for  an  hour." 

"Have  you  ever  known  an  excessive  talker  who 
rose  to  great  eminence  ?  "  asked  Vincent  of  me. 

"  There  have  been  such,  but  they  were  never  ad 
ministrative  people,  nor  in  the  professions  do  I  recall 
one.  Of  course  we  mean  the  men  who  have  the 
malady  of  talk." 

"  Your  strong  men,"  said  Clayborne,  "  are  at  times 
steady  talkers,  and  then,  like  this  man,  silent.  The 
morbidly  silent  are  to  me  the  most  remarkable ;  De 
foe's  silence,  for  example,  when  for  twenty-eight  years 
he  did  not  speak  to  his  wife  because,  as  he  said,  'she 
provoked  him,  which  urged  him  to  make  rash 
replies.' " 

"  Imagine,"  I  said,  "  the  exasperation  of  this  silence. 
No  wonder  his  wife  went  distracted.  One  daughter 
stayed  with  him,  and,  why  I  know  not,  talked  to  De 
foe  by  signs.  Twenty-eight  years  two  months  and 
nineteen  days  was  the  term  of  his  silence,  and,  as  his 
last  biographer  mentions,  was  exactly  the  time  of 
Crusoe's  life  of  silence.  There  must  have  been  in 
Defoe's  mind  some  queer  relation  between  the  two 
cases." 


202  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Shall  we  call  this  eccentricity  or  insanity  f  As  I 
recall  it,  the  return  of  willing  speech,"  said  Clay- 
borne,  "was  at  the  end  of  an  illness." 

"  I  knew/'  said  I,  "  of  an  insane  man,  once  an  army 
officer.  For  forty  years  he  never  spoke.  Then  accident 
brought  him  into  the  company  of  an  old  general  who 
had  been  his  second  in  a  duel.  The  insane  man  at 
once  began  to  talk  to  him,  but  never  again  broke 
silence.  But  what  of  Xerxes?  I  have  personally 
found  him  an  amusing  companion." 

"Yes,  he  tells  a  story  well,"  said  St.  Glair.  " There 
was  one  worth  repeating.  The  man  was  born  and 
raised  in  Arkansas  in  its  worst  days.  His  father  kept 
a  small  grocery  and  general  l  notion '  shop.  Xerxes 
has  still  the  belief  that  slavery  is  a  good  institution. 
You  should  hear  him.  l  Sir,  I  would  propose  to  extend 
it  to  about  one  third  of  the  white  people  I  know,  and 
all  the  niggers,  of  course.  This  slave  business  cost 
my  father  a  lot  of  trouble.  Our  judge  was  Walter 
Wampum.  He  came  from  Virginia;  Indian  blood, 
Pocahontas,  and  all  that.'  Let  me  explain,"  said  St. 
Clair,  "  that  to  do  justice  to  Xerxes's  Western  tongue 
is  past  my  skill.  He  gets  off  guard  when  he  tells  a 
story.  I  shall  let  him  speak.  i  Well,  our  judge  was 
mighty  set  up  about  his  family.  To  be  fit  for  any 
thing  a  man 's  got  to  be  set  up  about  something.  The 
judge  he  had  a  lot  of  boys,  and,  as  he  was  right  well 
off,  he  kep'  a  tooter  to  learn  them  things.  When  Bill 
Wampum  got  old  enough  to  be  allowed  a  bowie-knife 
there  was  n't  a  tooter  would  remain.  At  last  they 
got  a  Massachusetts  Yankee  named  Joe  Chalkley.  He 
was  a  long-legged,  watery  sort  of  a  poultice  of  a  man. 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  203 

He  had  yeller  hair  and  wabbled  around  town  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets.  Everybody  bossed  that  man. 
He  liked  boys  best,  and  went  about  with  them  like  a 
youngster.  You  might  have  noticed,  Mr.  Saint  Clair, 
that  meek  men  are  sometimes  rash.  Well,  this  Chalk- 
ley  he  had  some  eccentric  notions  about  slavery.  If 
you  chanced  to  get  onto  the  institootion  with  this 
man,  he  'd  get  red  in  the  face  and  say  things  like  any 
other  man  might. 

"  (  One  day  he  told  my  father  that  black  people 
were  just  as  good  as  white ;  he  reckoned  they  'd  all 
be  one  color  when  they  got  to  heaven,  or  some  was 
white  here  would  be  black  there.  This  was  so  rank 
unreasonable  that  my  father  lost  patience,  and  says 
he,  "  You  keep  clear  of  me.  The  next  time  you 
come  f oolin'  round  here  with  your  abolition  rot,  I  '11 
perforate  you."  I  guess  father  did  n't  mean  it,  but 
Chalkley  he  went  straight  away  to  the  judge's.  When 
the  judge  come  in  he  found  the  tooter  pilin'  his  clothes 
in  a  trunk  and  jumpin'  on  'em  to  get  it  shut. 

"  <  Says  the  judge.  "  What  >s  up  ? " 

11 '  Says  Chalkley,  "  Crofter,  the  groceryman,  he 
says  he  's  goin'  to  kill  me  on  sight  because  I  said 
black  men  'd  be  white  in  heaven." 

" l  "  Great  Scott !  "  says  the  judge.  "  You  've  got  a 
low  opinion  of  your  Maker.  He  '11  shoot  sure." 

"  '  Says  Chalkley,  "  I  'm  goin'  to  leave." 

" '  Says  the  judge,  "  Mr.  Chalkley,  whether  you 
live  or  die  is  n't  of  much  moment ;  but,  sir,  in  this 
business  the  honor  of  my  family  is  concerned— you 
understand,  sir,  the  honor  of  the  Wampum  family." 

"  '  Chalkley  he  felt  weak,  and  down  he  sat  on  his 


204=  DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

trunk  and  looked  at  the  judge.  The  judge  he  says, 
"  You  take  this  six-shooter,  and  you  walk  down-town, 
and  when  you  see  Crofter  you  shoot.  I  do  advise  you 
not  to  miss." 

"'Says  the  tooter,  "It's  awful,  judge.  I  don't 
know  one  end  of  the  machine  from  the  other." 

"  *  Says  the  judge,  "  I  regret,  sir,  your  neglected 
education,  but,  sir,  the  honor  of  my  family,  sir,  makes 
that  of  small  consideration ;  and,  sir,  either  I  must 
shoot  you,  and  then  kill  Crofter,  or  you,  sir,  must 
attend  to  this  matter  in  person.  I  prefer  the  latter 
course." 

"  t  Well,  down-town  goes  the  tooter,  and  after  him 
the  judge  to  keep  him  on  the  path  of  dooty.  There 
was  dad  swappin'  brooms  for  chickens  and  turkeys 
with  an  old  woman.  I  was  sittin'  on  a  crate  whittlin'. 
Chalkley  he  out  with  his  pistol  and  shut  his  eyes  and 
fired.  Down  went  dad  all  in  a  heap.  Bang  goes  the 
tooter  again,  and  there  was  a  dead  turkey,  and  Mrs. 
Booker  hoppin'  round  on  one  leg,  with  her  thumb 
in  her  mouth,  clean  blowed  off.  Dad  was  n't  badly 
hurt,  but  he  had  to  feed  standin'  up  for  a  fortnight. 
Chalkley  was  for  shootin'  him  deader,  but  the  judge 
says,  "  Quit  that,  you  fool.  Can't  you  see  the  honor 
of  the  Wampum  family  's  been  sufficiently  attended 
to  ?  And,  Crofter,  you  'd  better  go  out  of  the  busi 
ness  of  threatenin'  members  of  my  family.  Now, 
Mr.  Chalkley,  what  stage  do  you  take?  West  or 
East?" 

"  l  Well,  sir/  said  Xerxes,  *  that  man  stayed  on,  and 
just  before  the  war  he  was  ordered  to  leave  by  a 
vigilance  committee,  because  the  widows  and  orphans 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  205 

were  multiplyin'  under  that  man's  hands  to  such  an 
extent  that  the  town  finances  could  n't  stand  it.' " 

Every  one  laughed  except  Miss  Maywood. 

"A  good  story,"  said  I.  "Do  you  think  Xerxes 
invented  it  ?  " 

"  Invent  it  f  No ;  he  has  no  more  imagination  than 
a  clam.  I  am  sure  it  is  true.  He  said  that  the  way 
Chalkley  took  to  shooting  was  instructive  concern 
ing  what  came  later. 

"  It  seems  Xerxes  went  to  the  North  soon  after 
this  event,  and,  I  fancy,  concluded  that  as  shooting 
was  a  matter  of  education,  and  at  the  North  the  num 
ber  available  for  this  purpose  was  larger  than  at  the 
South,  it  was  well  to  remain,  as  he  said,  with  the  big 
gest  crowd.  At  all  events,  he  became  a  commissary 
clerk  and  prospered." 

"I  must  see  that  man,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "Do 
ask  him  to  dinner,  Fred." 

"  Cheerfully,  my  dear.  You  will  permit  me  to  dine 
at  the  club  that  day." 

"  And,"  said  I,  "  did  he  never  show  any  annoy 
ance  as  to  the  extraordinary  verdict  you  pronounced 
on  him  that  night  at  Holmwood  ? " 

"  Not  a  sign,"  said  St.  Clair.  "  I  think  he  consid 
ered  me  a  kind  of  art-engine,  and  not  a  subject 
for  hostile  remembrance.  He  may  have  changed  his 
mind." 

"  Yes ;  he  will  remember,"  said  Vincent.  "  The 
debt  is  doubled.  He  will  collect  it  as  surely  as  Shy- 
lock,  and  it  will  be  from  near  your  heart,  Victor." 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  careful,"  said  Sibyl,  simply. 

"  What  nonsense,  child  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Vincent. 


206  DR.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

By  this  time  the  dusk  of  the  late  June  twilight  was 
upon  us.  Candles  with  tall,  old-fashioned  glass  shades 
were  placed  on  the  table  with  the  fruit.  While  we 
discussed  where  the  Keats  vase  should  be  set,  the 
shadows  deepened  under  the  stars.  The  dim  light, 
which  is  not  star-given,  but  seems  as  if  it  were  the 
return  of  radiance  stored  by  day  in  the  sunlit  earth, 
lent  to  all  things  the  tenderness  of  indistinct  out 
lines.  Fireflies  flashed  here  and  there.  A  gentle 
hint  of  silence  was  in  the  air.  The  talk  fell  away, 
and  for  a  little  while  no  one  spoke.  Then,  of  a  sud 
den,  St.  Clair  pushed  back  his  seat  and  began  to  sing. 
It  was  his  way,  and  surprised  none  of  us. 

"Come  through  the  roses,  dear; 

Thy  gentle  kin  are  they. 
The  lilies  share  thy  fear 
Because  the  month  is  May. 

"Come  through  the  shadows,  come; 

The  twilight  hour  is  still. 
The  voice  of  toil  is  dumb, 
On  meadow,  lake,  and  hill." 

At  the  second  verse,  to  my  surprise,  Sibyl's  voice 
joined  in.  She  must  have  known  the  song.  She 
must  before  this  have  sung  it  with  St.  Clair.  The 
two  voices  rose  pure  and  sweet  in  the  evening  quiet. 
Mrs.  Vincent  touched  my  arm  with  her  fan.  I  un 
derstood.  As  they  ceased,  Sibyl  said:  "We  must 
sing,  now,  '  The  Holy  Hour/  It  is  better  than  your 
song.  Sing  it ;  I  want  it  now,  at  once.'7 

spoke  with  the  eagerness  of  a  child.    I  was 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  207 

struck  of  a  sudden  with  the  intimacy  implied  in  her 
manner  to  St.  Glair.  It  had  in  it  a  gentle  assurance 
of  trust,  of  some  easy  right  to  the  imperative  mood. 
Sibyl  was  still  very  natural.  She  was  not  yet  at  the 
point  of  self-confession  as  to  her  feeling  for  St.  Clair. 
It  might  never  come. 

"  He  who  wrote  <  The  Holy  Hour/  "  said  St.  Clair, 
"can  write  a  song.  Few  can.  The  art  is  lost.  I 
set  it,  but  Miss  Maywood  thinks  my  music  might  be 
bettered." 

Then  again  he  began  to  sing,  but  Sibyl  was  silent. 

"  This  hour  'to  thee !     When  as  the  sun 
His  course  in  the  high  heaven  hath  run, 
And  dew  upon  the  earth  doth  fall, 
And  clouds  their  infant  light  recall, 
May  I  in  heart  and  spirit  be 

An  hour  with  thee ! 

"  This  hour  be  thine !     As  tender  sweet 
As  to  the  heart  returning  feet 
That  timely  come,  and  hands  that  bless, 
And  eyes  that  add  their  own  caress, 
So  tender  and  so  timely  be 

This  hour  to  me, 

"  This  hour  to  thee !     And  if  I  weep, 
Let  hope  her  watches  o'er  me  keep, 
And  build  a  rainbow  from  my  tears 
That  'neath  this  sullen  cloud  of  years 
Shall  promise  brightly  I  may  be 

More  than  an  earthly  hour  with  thee." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  my  wife. 

We  had,  as  it  were,  a  shock  when  Clayborne,  rising, 


208  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

said :  "  We  have  had  enough,  I  think.  Did  it  take 
him  long  to  write  it,  St.  Clair,  or  did  you  do  it  ? " 

"I  did  not.  I  cannot.  I  wish  I  could.  My 
heavens,  it  is  so  simple,  so  tender !  " 

"  Stuff !  stuff  !  "  exclaimed  the  scholar.  "  Come  into 
the  garden  and  have  your  tobacco.  Pick  up  those 
cushions,  St.  Clair." 

Meanwhile  Sibyl  had  disappeared  into  the  house. 
We  followed  Clayborne  through  the  roses  into  the 
garden  beyond,  where,  in  the  pallid  light,  the  worn 
Greek  capitals  and  the  sacrificial  altar  were  gray 
blurs  in  the  evening  shade.  We  sat  down  at  the  far 
side  on  the  marble  bench.  Vincent  stretched  him 
self  out  on  a  cushion  at  our  feet,  while  St.  Clair 
walked  to  and  fro.  As  we  talked  of  our  summer 
schemes,  I  chanced  to  observe  that  St.  Clair  was 
standing  still  at  the  end  of  the  long  garden  walk. 
His  pipe  was  out.  He  was  leaning  on  the  altar.  A 
firefly  flashed  beside  him,  and  I  noticed  that  he  was 
looking  at  the  sky.  Again  half  a  dozen  of  these 
winged  lanterns  lighted  up  his  face.  He  was  very 
quiet.  At  this  moment  I  saw  Sibyl  at  the  upper  en 
trance,  a  white  figure  moving  with  accustomed  slow 
ness  down  the  garden  walk.  She  paused,  came  on, 
paused  again,  and,  I  supposed,  would  turn  into  the 
cross-walk  which  led  to  our  seat.  When  I  saw  that 
she  did  not,  but  went  on  toward  St.  Clair,  I  rose  and 
stepped  across  a  bed  of  flowers  so  as  to  meet  her.  I 
felt  some  vague  uneasiness. 

"  Sibyl,"  I  said. 

She  made  no  reply. 

"Sibyl!" 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  209 

She  still  moved  on.  I  was  struck  with  the  fact 
that  she  appeared  not  to  notice  me,  and  that  she  did 
not,  as  usual,  halt  in  her  gait.  She  moved  slowly, 
but  seemed  free  from  awkwardness  of  motion.  Again 
I  spoke,  and  louder.  As  she  still  did  not  seem  to 
hear  me,  I  took  her  arm,  and  said,  "  This  way,  Sibyl." 
We  were  now  near  to  St.  Clair. 

She  said  softly,  "Where  am  I?"  and  then  very 
low,  but  in  a  voice  of  ecstasy,  "  My  love,  I  am  com 
ing,  coming,"  and  instantly  became  rigid  from  head 
to  foot.  I  caught  her  falling  form. 

I  cried :  "  Don't  be  alarmed.     She  has  fainted." 

It  was  really  a  hysterical  attack.  Clayborne  was 
troubled.  St.  Clair,  who  had  heard  her,  was  far  more 
plainly  disturbed.  She  was  carried  to  the  house  and 
put  to  bed.  My  wife  and  I  remained  all  night.  Be 
fore  morning  the  girl  was  clear  in  mind,  but  very 
weak,  and  quite  unable  to  recall  this  unpleasant  little 
drama. 

"  Something  happened  at  dinner,"  she  said.  "  Did 
we  sing?  I  went  indoors,  I  think— I  forget.  Did  I 
faint?  Mr.  Clayborne  was  cross." 

"People  do  faint,"  I  said.  "No 5  no  one  is  to 
blame  for  fainting.  You  have  been  working  too 
hard." 

"  It  must  be  that,  I  suppose,"  she  said  wearily. 

Clayborne  was  worried,  and  could  not  see  how 
work  could  hurt  any  one.  The  women  were  wiser. 
My  wife,  who  hears  everything  she  ought  not  to 
hear,  said  to  me  :  "  Hysterics  !  Yes,  and  something 
else.  Owen,  I  have  learned  to  love  this  girl,  and  she 
is  so  frail  and  so  tender.  She  gives  out  her  love  as  a 


210  BE.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS 

flower  gives  its  odor,  asking  no  return.  Was  it  St. 
Glair's  fault  ?  Anne  Vincent  will  not  talk  of  it.  But 
what  to  do?" 

This  time  Victor  was  hard  hit.  Sibyl's  rapid  emer 
gence  from  childhood  interested  him ;  her  freshness, 
the  unexpected  way  in  which  her  mind  worked,  were 
attractive.  Her  great  beauty  of  face  appealed  to  him. 
He  knew  now  what  had  happened.  As  he  did  every 
thing  in  excess,  now  he  told  Anne  Vincent  that  he 
loved  the  girl. 

"  It  is  not  true,"  she  said,  indignant.  "  You  do 
not.  You  cannot." 

"  No,  I  don't !  "  he  cried.  "  I  do  not  know.  Why 
did  Mrs.  North  tell  you?  As  to  loving  her,  I  said 
then  I  did  not." 

"  Then  why  do  you  lie  about  it  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  I  must,"  he  said,  "  and,  indeed,  I  am 
greatly  troubled.  I  do  wish  all  of  you  would  let  me 
alone— as  if  I  did  not  know." 

Mrs.  Vincent  took  no  notice  of  this  appeal. 

"The  girl  is  very  weak,  very  sick,  Victor.  At 
least,  so  says  Owen  North.  If —if  she  should  fall  ill, 
or  die,  do  you  think  you  would  be  blameless  ? " 

"  I  know,"  he  cried,  "  I  know ! "  and  went  away, 
flying  like  a  scared  bird  that  has  no  resort  but  flight. 
He  had  a  human  inclination  to  get  away  from  a 
place  where  anything  unpleasant  had  occurred.  No 
one  asked  him  to  go.  He  had  behaved  well  of  late. 
I  saw  no  reason  why  he  should  go. 

This  time  he  was  gone  until  September.  He  wrote 
to  me,  and  spoke  of  all  of  us  except  Miss  Maywood, 
and  meanwhile  we  had  scattered  for  the  summer. 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  211 

Before  we  left,  Clayborne  had  talked  to  me  very 
freely  of  Sibyl's  health.  We  had  agreed,  however, 
among  ourselves  to  be  careful  as  to  what  we  said  to 
him.  If  Clayborne  had  understood  the  situation,  he 
would  have  been  more  watchful.  As  usual,  the  mis 
chief-maker  had  fled,  and  to  have  warned  Clayborne 
now  would  only  have  made  certain  a  rupture  be 
tween  him  and  St.  Clair.  We  continued  to  hope  that 
absence  and  wholesome  society  would  have  for  the 
secretary  their  usual  value.  The  extent  and  quality 
of  the  morbidness  due  to  uncertain  health  and  a 
background  of  emotional  temperament  even  I  did  not 
as  yet  appreciate.  It  was  clear  to  me  before  St.  Clair 
went  away  that  he  was  filled  with  distress  at  what  his 
folly  had  brought  about.  I  had  seen  him  before  this 
in  like  trouble  and  annoyed  at  the  obvious  result  of 
his  own  folly,  but  never  before  had  he  shown  any 
notable  regret  or  acknowledged  that  he  was  to  blame. 


XIV 

|HE  Vincents  had  rented  a  small  farm 
house  on  Frenchman's  Bay,  upon  the 
shores  of  Mount  Desert  Island,  and  we, 
— my  wife  and  child  and  I, — having  ac 
cepted  their  invitation,  settled  down  for 
a  long  stay  in  the  delightful  summer  climate  of 
Maine.  It  was  still  half  wilderness  ;  the  people  sim 
ple  and  interesting,  with  a  flavor  of  the  salt  seas  and 
fish.  The  hills  were  trackless,  the  roads  bad,  and  the 
contrast  with  our  city  life  very  grateful  to  us  all. 
Vincent's  yacht  lay  at  anchor  in  the  bay,  and  there 
were  boats  and  canoes  on  or  at  the  landing-slip. 
Clayborne  talked  of  a  visit  we  knew  to  be  improb 
able,  but,  as  I  have  said,  he  had  reluctantly  given  us 
Sibyl,  to  my  little  Mary's  joy.  I  shared  the  child's 
satisfaction.  In  contact  with  the  vigorous  mind  of 
Clayborne,  Sibyl  had  assimilated  knowledge  with  such 
ease  as  surprised  me.  Nor  did  this  lessen  the  spirit 
ual  grace  of  her  own  individuality.  It  is  true  that 
she  had  what  Vincent  called  mental,  as  well  as  emo 
tional,  moods,  and  was  wise  and  temperately  thought 
ful  at  one  moment,  and  again  childlike  or  overfull  of 
sentiment.  In  this  perfect  air,  where  the  seaside  cli 
matic  conditions  are  modified  by  the  nearness  of 
mountains,  she  swiftly  gained  health,  and  with  it  self- 
control.  Yet,  as  we  all  saw,  she  had  undergone  some 

212 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  213 

radical  change.  She  was  more  decisive,  and  at  times 
seemed  older.  I  was  puzzled  by  her  as  I  am  rarely 
puzzled.  She  spoke  tranquilly  of  St.  Clair,  saying 
without  trace  of  emotion  that  we  must  miss  him,  and 
when  would  he  come  ? 

My  wife  said  to  me  one  day:  "I  have  had  a  long 
talk  with  Sibyl.  She  likes  St.  Clair,  but  I  am  sure 
she  has  not  lost  her  heart.  She  discussed  him  quite 
coldly,  Owen.  Sometimes  her  acuteness  is  remark 
able.  She  said  he  was  self -full  rather  than  selfish; 
that  he  cared  too  much  for  his  art,  and  would  be— no, 
might  be  unhappy  if  he  married;  and  then— 'But 
is  n't  he  a  charming  companion  ? '  She  does  not  love 
him,  Owen,  I  am  sure  of  that." 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  if  not,"  said  I,  "  how  explain 
that  scene  in  the  garden  ?  In  some  way  he  disturbs 
her,  but  whether  consciously  to  her  or  not  I  cannot 
say." 

My  wife  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  replied :  "  If 
Sibyl  were  two  people  I  could  comprehend  it." 

I  had  seen  enough  of  the  double  consciousness  of 
some  hysterias  to  feel  no  surprise  at  this  flash  of 
feminine  insight. 

"That  is  not  impossible,"  I  said.  "I  will  think 
about  it."  Very  soon  I  had  still  more  cause  to 
reflect. 

One  day  I  had  failed  to  find  St.  Glair's  last  address 
in  his  letter,  and,  thinking  to  discover  it  on  the  en 
velop,  I  searched  my  table  and  waste-paper  basket. 
It  is  a  valuable  habit  of  mine  never  to  destroy  an  en 
velop  until  the  inclosure  has  been  read.  I  was, 
therefore,  sure  that  I  had  left  the  missing  envelop  on 

15 


214  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

a  table  beside  my  desk.  I  went  away  a  little  thought 
ful  to  take  my  afternoon  pull  on  the  water.  As  I 
passed  I  heard  Sibyl  call  from  her  favorite  nest  in  a 
hammock :  "  May  I  go  with  you  ?  n 

I  said :  "  Yes,  of  course.     Delighted  to  have  you." 

"Then  the  canoe,  please. " 

I  settled  her  comfortably  on  the  red  cushions  in 
the.  birch,  and  knelt,  Indian  fashion,  in  the  stern, 
facing  her,  as  I  paddled  out  on  to  the  broad  waters 
of  Frenchman's  Bay. 

"  Let  us  not  talk  for  a  while,"  she  said. 

My  profession  has  taught  me  respect  for  the  moods 
of  other  people.  She  wanted  silence.  So  did  I.  I 
used  the  paddle  quietly,  and  we  stole  out  a  mile  from 
the  shore  on  water  without  a  ripple.  To  left  the  set 
ting  sun  cast  its  light  laterally  across  the  bay.  The 
sea  was  a  vast  glow  of  crimson.  Far  away  the 
Gouldsborough  hills  were  like  domes  of  ruddy  bronze. 
Overhead  the  splendor  of  scarlet  and  rose  faded 
toward  the  zenith,  to  glow  again  in  the  east  above 
the  Mount  Desert  hills.  I  ceased  to  paddle,  and  lay 
back  in  the  stern.  As  Sibyl  looked  across  the  water 
at  the  changing  tints  of  rose-gold  on  low-lying  clouds 
over  the  mainland,  I  watched  her  face,  and  observed 
once  more  the  indescribable  look  of  serene  spiritual 
ity.  I  might  wrestle  long  with  the  incapacities  of 
language  and  still  be  unable  to  set  on  paper  what 
was  so  plain  to  my  eyes.  I  resolved  that  she  should 
be  first  to  crack  what  El-Din-Attar  calls  "  the  egg  of 
silence."  I  waited  long,  the  birch  drifting.  Now  and 
then  a  faint  breeze  here  and  there  fretted  the  water. 
On  these  wind-ruffled  spaces  the  cloud  shadows  lay, 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  215 

dark  purple  islands  amid  the  shimmering  plane  of  red. 
Far  away  a  frail  mist  filled  the  air,  and  near  by  iri 
descent  lights,  with  a  wonder  of  changeful  colors, 
glanced  or  glowed  on  the  water.  Between  us  and 
the  setting  sun  two  great  coasting-schooners  moved 
slowly;  their  ample  sails,  set  against  the  scarlet 
sea  and  sky,  appeared  of  a  pallid  green,  like  the 
delicate  underwing  of  the  katydid.  At  last  Sibyl 
spoke. 

"  Do  you  think  that  bad  people  ever  really  enjoy 
beautiful  things  f " 

"  I  fear  they  do.  There  were  those  terrible  Italian 
despots,  Malatestas,  Medici,  and  their  kind.  And 
some  very  good  folks,  I  fancy,  get  nothing  out  of 
nature,  Sibyl.  The  Italian  of  that  day  loved  the 
beautiful  in  art.  I  doubt,  on  second  thought,  if 
nature,  as  we  speak  of  it,  appealed  to  him." 

She  was  still  a  moment,  and  then  said :  "  I  am  glad 
that  nature  -was  not  intimate  with  those  terrible 
people." 

"  What  an  odd  way  to  put  it,  Sibyl !  " 

"  Is  it  ?  I  do  not  like  that  bad  people  should  find 
in  all  this  what  we  find.  It  seems  very  near  to  me  ; 
sometimes  I  seem  a  part  of  it,  or  it  of  me.  Do  not 
you  feel  that  sometimes  ? " 

I  smiled  gently,  and  looking  out  over  the  splendor 
of  the  evening  lights  wondered  if  I  had  really  any  of 
the  feeling  she  expressed. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  when  I  say  these  things  you  do 
not  even  answer.  You  smile.  It  is  not  fair.  You 
are  very  vexing  at  times,  my  good,  dear  doctor.  I 
told  something  like  this  to  the  master  last  month, 


216  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

and  he  just  said,  '  What,  what,  girl ! '  Then  I  quoted 
to  him : 

For  head  with  foot  hath  private  amitie, 

And  both  with  winds  and  tides. 

His  eyes  dismount  the  farthest  star, 

He  is  in  little  all  the  sphere. 

Herbs  gladly  cure  our  flesh  because  that  they 

Find  their  acquaintance  there. 

When  I  finished  he  asked  if  that  were  Emerson  or  a 
charade.  I  never  puzzled  him  before  as  to  a  quota 
tion,  unless  it  were  modern.  He  affects  to  know  only 
certain  writers.  He  has  read,  voraciously,  every 
thing." 

I  said :  "  No  wonder  he  did  not  know.  You  picked 
out  the  lines  best  fitted  to  puzzle." 

"  And  you  know  ? n 

"  Certainly  I  do.     Did  he  say  no  more  ? " 

"  Yes.  When  I  told  him  who  wrote  them,  he  said : 
'  I  never  have  felt  that  kinship  to  nature,  but  here  is 
what  Pico  della  Mirandola  said :  "  It  is  a  commonplace 
of  the  schools  that  man  is  a  little  world  in  which 
may  be  discerned  a  body  mingled  of  earthly  elements 
and  ethereal  breath,  and  also  of  the  vegetable  life  of 
plants  and  the  senses  of  lower  animals,  and  reason, 
and  the  intelligence  of  angels,  and  a  likeness  to  God." ' 
When  he  saw  how  this  pleased  me,  the  master  advised 
me  to  read  concerning  Pico,  his  life  by  Sir  Thomas 
More.  Oh,  dear !  I  tried  it !  » 

I  laughed  with  reminiscent  sympathy. 

"  I  had  to  give  up  that  book,"  she  said.  "  I  hate 
some  books.  You  cannot  answer  a  book.  And  some 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  217 

books  do  have  such  bad  manners.  In  one  I  read  last 
week  there  was  something  about  this  very  matter." 

"  What  did  it  say,  Sibyl  ? " 

"  Oh,  that  to  give  imagined  life  and  thought  and 
feeling  and  sympathy  to  tree  or  sea  or  hill  or  flower 
was  pure  nonsense ;  that  to  cultivate  and  accept  such 
beliefs  was  silly  and  even  unwise,  mere  superstitions 
of  the  imagination." 

"I  'd  rather  be 
A  pagan  suckled  hi  a  creed  outworn," 

I  quoted. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  It  is  the  things  you  cannot  prove 
that  are  the  best  of  life." 

"  Go  on,"  I  said.  "  I  am,  I  was,  smiling,  but  only 
with,  not  at,  you." 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said,  "  as  we  surely  are  of  the  God 
who  set  us  here,  so  must  there  be  in  all  that  he  has 
made  some  mystery  of  kinship.  It  seems  an  essential 
part  of  me,  this  desire  to  feel  in  nature  sympathies  of 
relation." 

"You  find/'  I  returned,  "  as  I  do,  something  solemn 
in  this  blaze  of  evening  scarlet,  something  of  the 
same  feeling  in  deep  woods,  the  sense  of  serene  peace 
in  a  mountain  lake,  of  joy  in  wild  waters." 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  said;  "and  although  I  cannot  ex 
plain  it,  I  know,  I  feel,  that  it  is  a  part  of  my  right 
ful  property." 

"  But  is  not  that,  Sibyl,  very  different  from  presum 
ing  that  nature  feels  for  or  with  you  ? " 

"  It  must.     It  does." 

"  There  is  no  harm  in  the  belief,  my  dear  Sibyl.    It 


218  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

is  not  a  bad  belief.  If  there  be  in  it  a  mysterious 
satisfaction,  it  harms  no  one.  Nature  thus  loved  and 
dealt  with  will  not  make  of  you  a  mystic." 

"  Now,  there  is  something  I  do  want  to  talk  about, 
mystery  and  mysticism.  What  is  the  line  between 
them  ?  I  remember  one  evening  at  Holmwood  Mr. 
St.  Clair  tried  to  get  a  definition  of  'mystical'  out 
of  my  cousin,  but  he  would  not  reply,  or  something 
turned  the  talk  aside." 

"  And  now  you  think  I  will  answer!" 
"  Yes.  It  left  me  with  a  desire  to  hear  more." 
"  What  is  a  mystic  ?  Perhaps  I  may  be  best  able 
to  exemplify  what  in  my  mind  is  very  distinct.  The 
man  who  finds  plant-forms  or  what  not  growing  in 
threes,  and  in  that  discovers  relations  to  the  Trinity,  is 
so  far  a  mystic.  When  I  recognize  anything  as  mys 
terious  I  want  to  understand  it.  The  mystic  invents 
mystery,  and  casts  a  shroud  of  perplexing  inadequacies, 
of  fanciful  explanation,  about  the  simple.  There  is 
much  that  is  probably  forever  unknowable,  but  let  us 
not  add  needlessly  to  the  inexplicable." 

"  I  think  I  see,"  she  said  thoughtfully.  "  But,"  she 
returned,  "as  to  this  sympathetic  relation  of  nature 
with  me,  I  have  to  confess  it  as  affectionately  held 
and  not  capable  of  proof,  like— well,  like  some  other 
grave  things  which  we  cannot  prove,  like —well,  like 
what  a  great  love  must  be." 

"  But  we  can  prove  that  your  thesis  about  nature 
is  not  true.  You  may  not  wish  to  do  so,  but  do  not 
confuse  yourself." 

"  I  like  to  confuse  myself." 

"  I  abandon  the  field,"  said  I,  laughing. 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  219 

"Oh,  Dr.  North,  are  n't  you  hardened  by  science 
until  all  mystery  is  distressful  to  you  ? n 

11  Between  mystery  and  mysticism  let  us  once  more 
draw  the  line.  You  have  the  temperament  of  the 
mystic.  The  mysterious  is  attractive  to  you  only 
because  it  is  mysterious.  That  is  the  mystic/7 

"Ami?     Perhaps." 

The  talk  fell  away  as  twilight  cast  her  veil  of 
shadows  on  the  face  of  the  dead  day.  Presently 
Sibyl  said  with  hesitative  shyness :  "  I  was  naughty 
to-day,  Dr.  North."  Here  was  another  Sibyl,  the  child. 

"  Indeed  ?    And  how,  little  woman  ? " 

"  I  took  an  envelop  from  your  table.'7 

Then  I  understood.  The  naivete  of  such  a  confes 
sion  was  astounding. 

"  Well,  what  then  ?  'T  is  no  great  crime.  But 
why  take  it  ? "  It  seemed  best  to  me  to  go  through 
the  path  thus  opened. 

"  I  saw  it  was  Mr.  St.  Glair's  writing.  I  wanted  it. 
I  had  a  fancy  to  see  if  I  could  find  his  character  in 
his  writing." 

"  Ah !     His  character.     Well !  " 

"  Was  there  any  harm  in  it  ?  n 

"  Oh,  no.  But  why  not  have  asked  me  to  show 
you  his  letters  ? " 

"  Yes,  that  would  have  been  better." 

"  Sometimes  no  one  can  read  them,"  I  said.  "  I  do 
not  think  that  writing  shows  character.  Writing  is 
formed,  as  to  its  peculiarities,  in  youth,  and  before 
that  complex  thing,  character,  is  fully  constructed. 
Nor  as  character  alters  does  the  writing  of  the  man 
show  change." 


220  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  That  seems  to  dispose  of  the  beliefs  of  some 
people  as  to  handwriting." 

"  Yes.  Once  it  is  well  formed,  the  permanence  of 
the  form  a  man's  script  has  is  remarkable.  I  had 
once  a  terrible  case  of  hysterical  palsy.  This  girl  in 
turn  wrote  with  her  right  hand  steadied  by  the  left, 
then  with  the  left,  then  at  last  with  a  pen  held  in  her 
teeth.  All  of  this  variously  produced  script  was 
practically  the  same,  was  decided  by  an  expert  to  be 
written  by  one  person." 

Sibyl  sat  quiet  a  little  while,  as  she  was  apt  to  do 
when  considering  something  of  interest.  Then  she 
sat  up  rather  abruptly  and  said,  "  Mr.  St.  Clair— " 

"What,  Sibyl?" 

"Mr.  St.  Clair  is  on  the  water.  I  hear  him 
coming." 

"  Nonsense." 

"  I  do,  doctor.  Do  not  you  hear  1 "  She  was  plainly 
excited.  She  sat  up  erect  of  a  sudden,  staring  down 
the  bay. 

"  Lie  down.  Keep  still,  Sibyl."  I  feared  more  hys 
terics,  and  this,  in  a  frail  birch  half  a  mile  from  land, 
presented  me  with  a  new  terror.  "  Take  care,"  I  said. 
"Lie  still." 

"  But  he  is  coming." 

Her  voice  betrayed  her  excitement. 

"  Well,  what  then  ?     Sit  still." 

My  own  ear  now  detected  the  splash  of  a  paddle.  I 
turned  toward  the  landing.  Another  boat  drew  near. 
As  we  paddled  in  through  the  dark,  I  heard  St.  Clair 
call :  "  Is  that  you,  Owen  North  ?  Good  evening,  Miss 
Maywood." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  221 

To  my  surprise,  she  was  suddenly  as  quiet  as  any 
woman  of  half  a  dozen  social  campaigns.  I  felt 
relieved.  She  had  come  again,  for  the  time,  into 
healthy  self-command  of  her  unstable  temperament. 

As  we  walked  toward  the  house,  St.  Clair  said: 
"  Glad  to  see  you.  I  have  been  camped  on  Iron 
Bound  Island,  and  then  on  the  shore  at  Seal  Harbor. 
As  you  know,  for  I  wrote  from.  Portland,  I  came  in 
my  canoe  by  sea  from  New  York.  Last  night  my 
little  tent  took  fire.  I  could  not  find  a  corner  in  the 
village,  and  so  here  I  am.  Luckily,  Owen,  your  clothes 
fit  me.  I  have  not  a  garment  except  what  is  on  me." 

I  was  a  little  annoyed,  thinking  of  Sibyl,  but  the 
poet  was  made  welcome,  and  it  was  soon  clear  that 
Sibyl  was  mistress  of  herself.  She  neither  sought  nor 
shunned  St.  Clair,  and  his  too-attentive  pleasure  in  her 
serene  and  tender  face  had  apparently  gone  the  way  of 
many  another  such  possession.  Very  soon  we  all  felt 
easier,  and  he  was  so  charming  a  companion  that 
not  to  be  glad  of  his  company  was  impossible.  My 
wife  declared  herself  reassured.  And  yet,  as  we 
walked  and  drove,  or  boated  and  sailed  on  these  lovely 
waters,  and  the  weeks  went  by,  I  was  not  altogether 
at  ease  about  this  singular  young  woman.  At 
times  she  was  too  self-absorbed,  at  times  too  silent ; 
and  yet  at  no  time  was  she  otherwise  with  St.  Clair 
than  to  appearance  frank  and  natural.  For  a  long 
time  I  hesitated  to  believe  that  his  mere  presence 
affected  her  without  her  being  consciously  aware  of  it. 
It  seemed  to  Alice  an  absurd  idea,  one  of  my  queer  no 
tions,  she  said.  I  have  several.  Some  I  keep  muzzled. 
Some  not  even  my  wife  knows.  This  idea  kept  firm 


222  DK.   NORTH  AND   HIS  FRIENDS 

hold  of  me.  I  watched  her  more  closely  than  did  the 
others,  and,  in  fact,  she  was  both  friend  and  patient. 
As  part  of  my  systematic  care  I  obliged  her  to  rest 
much  in  the  hammock  and  to  go  to  bed  at  nine.  Af 
ter  she  thus  left  us  an  indefinite  sense  of  relief  was 
present.  Then,  and  never  before,  St.  Clair  was  apt 
to  go  to  the  piano  and  sing  or  improvise,  giving  way 
to  the  varying  mootf  of  the  hour,  like  the  mere  child 
of  genius  he  was  when  set  free  from  the  constraint 
of  conventional  society.  One  evening  he  had  been 
chanting  bits  of  wild  lullabies  picked  up  in  Borneo, 
when  Mrs.  Vincent  said :  "  Victor,  tell  us  of  your 
voyage." 

"  Certainly  j  but,  first,  here  is  a  queer  thing.  You 
may  remember  that  Alcott  bought,  years  ago,  my 
Indian  standing  unarmed  on  a  peak  of  the  Catskills, 
looking  down  sadly  on  the  land  where  once  his  tribe 
had  hunted.  Alcott  failed,  and  at  the  sale  of  his 
gallery  Xerxes  bought  my  chief.  I  grieve  to  say  it 
cost  him  very  little." 

"  That  is  rather  odd,"  remarked  Vincent. 

"  Look  out  for  mischief,"  said  I. 

"  But  what,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  can  he  do  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  I  replied.  "  The  devil  is  inge 
nious.  He  may  roast  it  to  make  lime  of  it." 

"Well,"  said  St.  Clair,  "we  shall  see.  By  the  way, 
did  I  tell  you  how  he  came  to  relate  that  tale  about 
the  honor  of  the  Wampum  family  ? " 

"No;  what  was  it?" 

"  I  went  one  day  to  his  house  to  change  the  time  of 
a  sitting.  There  I  saw  the  new  Mrs.  Xerxes,  Mrs. 
Gladwyn  that  was.  She  has  him  well  in  hand.  She 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  223 

is  tall,  very  handsome,  rather  full-blown ;  a  lady,  to 
my  surprise." 

"  I  knew  her,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  when  she  was 
Miss  Van  Osten.  She  was  a  well-bred,  rather  cold 
and  stately  girl.  She  married  Gladwyn,  an  English 
man  of  good  Dorset  stock.  He  ill-treated  her,  and, 
dying,  left  her  poor." 

"  And  so  she  has  polished  Mr.  Xerxes  ? "  said  Vin 
cent. 

"  Yes,  most  notably.  She  was  very  civil,  of  course, 
and  did  not  overdo  it.  When  I  declined  to  dine  with 
them,  she  said  simply  that  perhaps  they  might  be 
more  fortunate  another  day.  When  Xerxes,  who 
must  be  forgiving,  urged  it,  I  saw  her  cleverly  signal 
him,  and  at  this  he  dropped  it,  and  asked  me  to  look 
at  his  new  Meissonier.  It  was  labeled  *  Ronneur.'  A 
pale  young  man  stood  before  a  table  littered  with 
papers.  Opposite  sat  an  old  man,  the  father,  I  pre 
sume.  The  old  man's  face  was  cold  and  stern.  He 
was  handing  a  pistol  to  the  son.  The  story  was  plain 
—disgrace,  shame ;  there  was  but  one  thing  to  do,  as 
the  old  man  saw  it.  As  I  stood  charmed  with  the 
picture,  I  said,  *  He  must  atone  by  death.  How  dis 
tinctly  the  tale  is  told!  Disgrace,  honor,  death.' 
( That  young  fellow/  said  Xerxes,  *  he  don't  seem  to 
like  it.  He  is  no  such  darned  fool.'  'The  young 
man  is  a  coward/  said  madam.  <  I  am  for  the  father.' 
Xerxes  glanced  at  her,  a  quick  look  of  surprise  and 
curiosity.  Evidently  neither  his  social  education  nor 
his  knowledge  of  Mrs.  Crofter  was  quite  complete. 
He  said :  '  I  wonder  if  the  old  man  will  pay  the  bills. 
I  would  n't.  I  should  have  advised  Texas.  I  told  my 


224  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

son  Peter  that  once.'  '  Then/  said  madam,  flushing  a 
little,  i  if  you  are  in  earnest,  which  I  doubt,  you  had 
better  repent  and  settle.'  It  was  lightly  said,  but  it 
answered.  'If  you  like,'  said  Xerxes,  coolly.  'I 
did  n't  mean  that  Peter  did  worse  than  get  in  debt. 
I  would  delight  to  be  able  to  oblige  you,  only  that  I 
paid  up  long  ago.  That  honor  business  is  a  queer 
thing.'  It  was  apropos  of  this  that  I  was  told  the 
story.  I  fancy  there  may  have  been  bills  to  pay  for 
Peter,  his  son.  Xerxes  is  founding  libraries,  endow 
ing  asylums,  and  altogether  is  worked  pretty  shrewdly. 
He  ought  to  be  interesting  on  the  question  of  honor. 
It  is  by  no  means  easy  to  define." 

"  I  happen  to  have  here,"  said  Vincent,  "  one  of  Clay- 
borne's  books  in  which  he  marked  for  me  a  passage  to 
illustrate  this  very  matter."  As  he  spoke  he  took  up 
an  old  copy  of  "  Reliquiae  Wottonianae."  "  The  book 
is  interesting,"  he  said.  "  See  this.  On  a  blank  page 
is  written, t  Susanna  Hopton,  Her  Booke ' ;  and  under 
neath,  l  Given  by  her  unknown  generous  friend,  Mr.  Izaac 
Walton.  Ex  libris  Tho.  Hopton,  1695.'  I  should  like 
to  know  more  of  it,  and  how  the  dear  old  angler  was 
generous,  and  why  unknown.  But  let  me  read  the 
passage : 

"  l  Upon  Munday  was  seven-night  fell  out  another 
quarrel,  nobly  carried  (branching  from  the  former) 
between  my  Lord  Fielding  and  Mr.  Goring,  Son  and 
Heir  to  the  Lord  of  that  Name.  They  had  been  the 
night  before  at  Supper,  I  know  not  were,  together ; 
were  Mr.  Goring  spake  something  in  diminution  of 
my  Lord  Weston,  vvich  my  Lord  Fielding  told  him,  it 
could  not  become  him  to  suffer,  lying  by  the  side  of 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  225 

his  Sister.  Thereupon,  these  hot  hearts  appoint  a 
meeting  next  day  morning,  themselves  alone,  each 
upon  his  Horse.  They  pass  by  Hide-Park,  at  a  place 
were  they  might  be  parted  too  soon,  and  turn  into  a 
Lane  by  Knights-Bridge;  were  having  tyed  up  their 
Horses  at  a  Hedge  or  Gate,  they  got  over  into  a 
Close  j  ther  stripped  into  their  Shirts,  with  single 
Rapiers,  they  fell  to  an  eager  Duel,  till  they  were 
severed  by  the  Host  and  his  servants  of  the  Inne  of 
the  Prince  of  Orange,  who  by  meer  chance  had  taken 
some  notice  of  them.  In  this  noble  encounter,  where 
in  blood  was  spent,  though  (by  God's  providence)  not 
much  on  either  side,  ther  passed  between  them  a  very 
memorable  interchange  of  a  piece  of  courtesie,  if  that 
word  may  have  room  in  this  place ;  Sayes  my  Lord 
Fielding,  Mr.  Goring  u  if  you  leave  me  here,  let  me 
advise  you  not  to  go  back  by  Piccadillia-hall,  lest  if 
mischance  befall  me,  and  be  suddenly  noised  (as  it 
falleth  out  in  these  occasions  now  between  us)  you 
might  receive  some  harm  by  some  of  my  friends  that 
lodge  thereabouts."  "My  Lord  (replyes  Goring]  I 
have  no  way  but  one  to  answer  this  courtesie :  I  have 
here  by  chance  in  my  Pocket  a  Warrent  to  pass  the 
Ports  out  of  England,  without  a  Name  (gotten,  I  sup 
pose,  upon  some  other  occasion  before).  If  you  leave 
me  here,  take  it  for  your  use,  and  put  it  in  your  own 
name."  This  is  a  passage  much  commended,  as  pro 
ceeding  both  from  sweetness  and  stoutness  of  spirit, 
which  are  very  compatible.7 " 

"  How  pretty  that  is — the  t  sweetness  and  stoutness 
of  spirit' !  The  passage  is  new  to  me." 

"  I  suppose,"  returned  Vincent,  "  to  go  back  on  our 


226  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

talk  a  little,  that  however  much  a  man  like  Xerxes 
may  change,  many  of  the  finer  qualities  of  more 
high-minded  natures  must  remain  to  him  mere  rid 
dles,  delicacies  of  conduct  he  can  never  know." 

"  Yes ;  that  seems  likely,"  I  said.  "  An  old  writer 
says  of  honor  that  i  it  is  the  sweete  extravagance  of 
honestie/  but  while  I  agree  that  it  is  impossible  to 
define  it,  to  illustrate  it  is  tempting." 

"  What  a  pretty  bit  of  old-time  gossip  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Vincent,  who  had  listened  smiling.  "  How  far  away 
from  one  like  Mr.  Crofter !  And  yet  I  should 
like  to  know  him.  I  have  always  felt  sure  that  I 
shall." 

"Feminine  curiosity,"  said  Vincent,  "has  cost  the 
world  pretty  dear.  Be  thankful  that  occasionally,  as 
now,  it  never  can  be  gratified.  Let  us  drop  Xerxes. 
But  what  of  the  voyage,  Victor  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  wrote  all  about  it  to  Owen." 

"  I  never  saw  your  letters,"  said  my  wife,  reproach 
fully.  "  Owen  has  so  trained  himself  to  hold  his 
tongue  that  I  never,  never  hear  anything." 

"  I  could  not  read  his  letter,"  said  I.  "  An  intoxi 
cated  beetle,  just  out  of  an  ink-pot  and  crawling  over 
the  page,  would  have  scrawled  his  maudlin  dreams  as 
clearly."  Having  said  thus  much  in  my  defense,  I  went 
out  and  brought  back  with  me  the  letter.  "  Bead  it 
yourself,"  said  I. 

He  took  it  and,  spinning  round  on  the  piano-stool, 
faced  us  and  the  letter  with  a  puzzled  look.  How 
much  of  what  we  heard  was  letter  and  how  much 
was  added,  I  do  not  know. 

At  last  he  said :  "It  is  not  fair  to  ask  a  man  to 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  227 

read  his  own  letters  aloud— I  mean  two  weeks  after 
writing  them.  How  can  he  remember  ? " 

This  was  greeted  with  wild  laughter,  and,  thus 
reviled,  he  began : 

"  '  I  left  New  York  at  noon  in  my  Rob  Roy  canoe, 
and  ran  up  the  Sound,  with  my  little  red  silk  sail 
spread,  and  a  gentle  southwester  after  me,  and  much 
chaff  from  coasters.  Toward  evening,  next  day,  I 
stood  out  to  sea,  using  my  paddle.  I  soon  lost  sight 
of  land.  Then  about  midnight  I  lighted  my  small 
lantern,  and  lay  on  a  moveless  ocean  under  a  star 
lit  sky.  I  fell  back  at  ease  on  my  cushions.  I 
was  folded  about  with  peace  as  with  a  mantle. 
Around  me  and  above  was  the  night,  and  below 
the  deeper  darkness  of  the  sea.  A  great  ocean 
liner  went  by  a  few  hundred  yards  away.  I  heard 
the  pulse  of  her  propeller,  and  saw  the  upheaval 
of  white  water  at  her  bow.  The  touch  of  peril  made 
sweet  the  sense  of  solitude,  the  voiceless  loneli 
ness  of  the  ocean.  The  darkness  deepened  toward 
dawn.  A  strange  feeling  of  the  imminence  of  death 
possessed  me.  All  life  was  so  far  away,  with  its  busy 
contradictions  of  life's  inevitable  ending.  I  was  alone 
as  God  is  alone,  as  the  unpeopled  stars  are  alone.  I 
seemed  to  be  a  soul  in  space,  thought-bereft,  without 
hopes  or  memories,  a  child-soul  drifting  on  to  alien 
shores.  Then  a  great  white  bird  swept  by  on  hesita 
tive  wing,  and  far  to  the  east  the  day  welled  up  on  the 
edge  of  the  night ;  and  so  a  gentle  joy  fell  upon  me, 
and  I  slept  till  the  fuller  light  wakened  me,  saying, 
"  Here  is  time  again." ?  The  rest,"  he  said,  "  is  worth 
less."  Upon  this  he  turned  to  the  piano  and  sang 


228  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

song  after  song.  He  rose  at  last,  and  said :  "  I  have 
kept  the  floor  rather  long,  dear  people.  Good  night." 
Then  he  turned  back,  and  said :  "  Have  you  ever  at 
evening  on  the  ocean,  alone,  watched  a  gull  hovering 
overhead,  he  and  you  alone,  both  silent  ? " 

"  I  have  been  in  that  good  company,"  said  I. 

"  Then  you  will  like  this.  I  made  it  while  I  watched 
him.  I  have  never  written  it."  He  played  some  sort 
of  improvised  accompaniment,  and  chanted,  or  rather 
intoned.  It  was  not  singing. 

We  rose  silently.  No  words  can  convey  the  effect 
he  could  produce  when  in  one  of  these  rapt  moods.  I 
have  never  seen  any  one  else  who  had  this  power. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  my  wife.  "  Leave  us  with  this 
to  dream  on.  Come,  Anne." 

A  moment  after  the  women  had  gone,  I  heard  Mrs. 
Vincent  say,  as  they  went  up-stairs,  "  Who  could  have 
spilled  candle-grease  on  the  rail  and  stairs,  too  ? " 

As  the  bedroom  candles  were  set  on  a  table  at  the 
head  of  the  stairway,  I  understood  why  she  was  sur 
prised,  and  then  I  forgot  it  in  a  medical  pamphlet  "  On 
Displacements  of  the  Colon."  Vincent,  who  has  a  mania 
as  to  punctuation,  fell  on  to  it  greedily  next  day,  and 
was  much  disgusted  when  he  discovered  it  to  be  only 
medical. 

While  I  was  dressing  next  morning,  Mrs.  Vincent 
knocked  and  asked  me  to  see  Sibyl  before  I  break 
fasted.  I  found  Miss  Maywood  in  bed,  and  was 
more  than  ever  struck  with  her  singular  beauty.  The 
spinal  distortion  was,  of  course,  unseen  as  she  lay 
with  her  perfect  hands  outside  of  the  cover.  I  have 
as  a  physician  a  great  horror  of  deformities.  They 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  229 

usually  represent  incompetence,  vice,  neglect,  or  ig 
norance.  Because  some  doctor  did  not  know  his 
business  this  girl  was  to  be  whipped  through  life  with 
a  lash  he  would  never  feel.  Sibyl's  first  welcome  was 
usually  a  smile  like  the  ready  smile  of  childhood- 
mysterious  coinage  before  mirth  is  conscious.  Now 
she  did  not  smile.  Clearly  she  was  not  well,  had 
slept  ill,  and,  as  I  found,  had  a  slight  fever.  It  was 
nothing,  she  said.  I  advised  rest  for  a  day. 

As  I  went  from  her  bedside  I  saw  something  which 
caused  me  to  take  Mrs.  Vincent  aside  after  breakfast. 
I  said  to  her :  "  Last  night,  after  Sibyl  left  us,  she 
heard  St.  Clair  reading  or  singing.  She  went  half 
way  down  the  stair  and  listened.  He  began  just 
after  she  left  us." 

"  How  do  you  know  that,  Owen  North  ? " 

"  She  dropped  candle-grease  on  the  stair  and  also 
on  her  gown." 

"  Oh,  I  am  glad  you  are  not  my  doctor.  And  what 
next?" 

"  I  do  not  think  that  she  knew  what  she  was  doing." 

"Can  that  be?" 

"  Yes.  I  do  not  suppose  that  she  realizes  her  own 
condition.  Perhaps  she  never  will.  The  mischief  is 
done.  It  is  vain  to  talk  to  her.  Common  sense  is  a 
tonic  which  here  is  useless.  Time,  which  some  one 
brutally  called  the  opium  of  grief,  time  will  not  help 
her." 

"  Then  this  is  serious  ?  Her  physical  state,  I  mean, 
and  this  condition  of  somnambulism,  or  double  con 
sciousness.  It  seems  to  me  horrible,  Owen,  to  be  and 
not  to  be  yourself." 


230  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Yes ;  it  is  perplexing." 

Mrs.  Vincent  stood  still.  "  I  have  come  to  love 
this  girl  more  than  I  thought  I  could  love  so  peculiar 
a  person.  Is  there  no  way  to  help  her?  What  can 
we  do  or  help  you  to  do  ?  St.  Glair  must  not  know. 
He  is  more  really  sorry  for  what  has  occurred  than 
I  ever  saw  him  about  anything.  He  thinks  it  is 
over ;  that  it  was  on  her  side  a  brief  fancy.  But  he 
does  not  like  to  talk  of  it  or  of  her.  I  have  sometimes 
thought— but  no  matter." 

"  Ah,  me !  "  I  said.  "  First  some  fool  costs  her  this 
crippled  life,  then  this  un thoughtful  fellow  adds  an 
unendurable  pain.  And  yet,  how  could  he  dream 
that  she  is  a  woman  capable  of  love,  of  passion,  of 
despair  ?  We  are  apt  not  to  credit  physical  incom 
pleteness  with  the  moral  or  even  the  mental  equip 
ment  of  the  physically  competent." 

"Yes,  that  is  true.  I  myself  have  the  feeling. 
Poor  Sibyl !  I  see  it  all  now.  At  times  she  gives  way 
to  emotion  as  in  the  garden,  or  as  she  did  last  night. 
And  then  there  is  a  new  Sibyl.  It  is  a  strange 
nature.  I  suppose  this  is  what  you  doctors  call 
hysteria.  Dr.  Randolph  comes  to-morrow  for  a  week, 
and  she  is  to  go  back  with  him,  and  will  remain  at 
Holmwood.  I  must  write  to  Clayborne  as  to  her 
work,  or  you  had  better  do  so." 

"  Very  good.  I  will  do  it.  And  do  not  be  troubled ; 
it  is  only  temporary." 

In  fact,  Bibyl  grew  slowly  better,  and  then  very 
suddenly  was  herself.  Meanwhile  St.  Clair  was  twice 
absent  for  two  days  in  his  canoe. 

I  was  glad  to  talk  with  Randolph  about  my  patient. 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  231 

He  listened  with  medical  patience,  and  then  could  not 
agree  with  me.  Plainly  anemia  was  the  trouble.  Yes, 
but  what  caused  it  ?  He  took  a  great  fancy  to  Miss 
Maywood.  He  carried  with  him  what  Vincent  called 
"the  robust  atmosphere  of  a  life  of  success."  He 
rowed  her  about  on  the  bay,  set  her  on  a  pony  and 
led  it,  or  read  to  her  as  she  lay  in  the  hammock,  be 
traying  no  evidence  of  intimate  knowledge  of  her  life. 
She  grew  better,  and  I  tried  to  think  I  had  been 
wrong  as  to  her  condition.  But  that  something  was 
mysteriously  affecting  her  I  still  saw  but  too  plainly. 

Finally  St.  Clair  left  us  again  in  his  usual  abrupt 
way,  talking  of  it  for  a  week  beforehand,  and,  without 
other  warning,  was  gone  one  morning  at  break  of 
day. 

And  now  September  had  come.  The  boarders  in 
the  village,  and  what  the  inhabitants  then  called 
"the  mealers  and  team-mealers,"  were  gone.  We 
seemed  once  more  to  own  the  woods  and  waters. 

One  perfect  day  early  in  this  month  of  weather 
moods,  we  ran  across  Frenchman's  Bay,  and  skirted  the 
north  shore  under  easy  sail,  scarce  moving  on  a  quiet 
ocean.  Mrs.  Vincent  had  at  last  agreed  to  go  if  we 
could  rely  upon  tranquil  seas.  We  ran  along  after 
luncheon  in  sight  of  the  Gouldsborough  hills,  and  in 
and  out  among  islands,  and  close  to  the  bold  cliffs 
of  Iron  Bound.  We  exhausted  epithets  as  the  day 
wore  on.  The  mountains  on  Mount  Desert  began  to 
glow  with  the  hazy  violet  tints  of  evening,  while  the 
islands  hid  from  us  one  of  the  ugliest  towns  on  the 
coast  of  New  England. 

As  we  moved  with  a  scarce-felt  wind,  Sibyl  and  I 


232  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

were  walking  the  deck,  while  I  pointed  out  the  vari 
ous  Porcupine  islands.  At  last  I  said,  "  That  is  Iron 
Bound  yonder." 

"  Yes,"  she  returned,  "  where  Mr.  St.  Clair  camped. 
I  am  glad  he  went  away.  We  used  to  be  such  good 
friends,  but  of  late  he  has  quietly  dropped  me.  He  is 
really  a  strange  man.  I  wonder  what  I  could  ever 
have  done  to  make  him  avoid  me." 

I  turned  sharply  to  look  at  the  maker  of  this  critical 
speech. 

"  I  thought  you  liked  him,"  I  said. 

"  I  did.  I  do.  No  one  can  help  liking  him.  I  think 
I  understand  him  better  than  at  first.  I  did  at  first 
think  him  a  sort  of  continuous  riddle.  He  was  rather 
bewildering  to  a  simple  young  woman." 

Suddenly  a  thought  struck  me.  "  See  those  gulls, 
Sibyl.  Have  you  ever  heard  St.  Clair  sing  '  The  Sea 
gull  '  ?  Watch  that  rover  now." 

"No,"  she  said,  "never.  It  must  be  a  new  song.  I 
do  not  know  why,  but  he  never  sings  early  in  the 
evening,  and  I  am  in  bed  by  your  orders,  sir,  at  nine ; 
also,  I  sleep  at  once  and  well." 

So,  then,  she  had  not  consciously  heard  St.  Clair 
sing.  Of  this  I  was  sure.  Here  was  stuff  for  reflec 
tion.  Sibyl  said  presently :  "I  want  to  ask  Dr.  Ran 
dolph  something.  I  have  been  trying  to  recall  what 
it  was ;  now  I  have  it.  Excuse  me,  I  must  ask  him." 

Did  she  desire  to  escape  further  question?  That 
was  most  unlikely.  I  followed  her,  thoughtful.  She 
was  absolutely  truthful.  That  she  must  have  heard 
St.  Clair  sing  the  night  before  her  small  illness  was 
to  my  mind  certain.  I  was  driven  to  the  conclusion 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  233 

that  this  woman  had  ceased  to  love  St.  Glair,  if,  in 
deed,  she  had  ever  loved  him,  but  that  in  some  state 
of  unresisting  dual  consciousness  she  was  the  victim 
of  an  overmastering  passion.  The  thought  seemed 
to  explain  a  good  deal  which  had  appeared  to  me 
incomprehensible. 

Meanwhile  Miss  Maywood  had  crossed  the  deck,  and 
joined  the  good  old  Tory  doctor  and  the  rest  of  the 
party.  She  at  once  reminded  him  that  he  had  not 
fulfilled  his  promise  to  tell  us  or  read  to  us  the  re 
maining  portions  of  his  grandmother's  diary. 

"  I  did  not  forget/7  he  said,  "  but  when  I  came  to 
look  it  over  with  care  I  found  that  it  dwelt  merely 
on  the  commonplaces  of  a  happy  life.  Cyrilla's  child 
became  my  mother.  She,  too,  married  late  in  life. 
Her  uncle  is  worth  remembering.  He  never  entirely 
forgave  his  sister's  double  change  of  religion — that  is, 
he  said  he  could  not ;  but  no  one  ever  saw  him  other 
than  most  affectionate  to  her.  He  was  an  admirable 
example  of  the  orthodox  Quaker,  charitable,  kindly, 
religious,  and  a  steady  adherent  to  every  ancient 
usage  of  Friends.  Assuredly  he  never  forgot  the 
cruel  ill-treatment  his  father,  like  many  other  Tories, 
met  with  at  the  hands  of  the  Whigs.  Up  to  the  time 
of  his  last  and  only  illness,  he  protested  in  writing 
whenever  he  paid  taxes,  and  never  voted,  declaring 
himself  to  be  still  a  subject  of  the  King  of  England." 

"  How  delightful !  "  said  my  wife.  "  I  wonder  some 
of  the  Anglophiles  do  not  revive  this  custom." 

"  He  did  more,"  added  Randolph.  "  Like  the  old 
Friends,  he  used  stimulants  in  reasonable  amount. 
Once  a  month  he  gathered  all  of  his  family  at  an 


234  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

early  dinner.  Then  he  had  a  bowl  of  punch,  and 
himself  drank  out  of  a  curious  horn  cup  which  his 
ancestor  brought  from  England.  Before  drinking,  he 
said,  '  To  the  king/  He  remained  loyal  to  the  crown, 
dying  at  a  great  age,  the  last  of  the  Tories." 

"  They  were  harshly  treated/7  said  I.  "  They  went 
away  in  numbers  to  Canada.  To-day  you  find  some 
of  the  best  blood  of  New  England  scattered  along 
the  desolate  shores  of  Gaspe  and  Labrador.  Men  of 
the  uneducated  class  rarely  emigrate  for  mere  senti 
ment.  These  were  people  of  the  upper  classes.  Now 
they  are  fishers,  smiths,  or  small  farmers.  The  envi 
ronment  has  been  too  hopelessly  sterile  of  chances. 
Of  course  others  rose  to  distinction,  as  the  interesting 
old  graveyard  of  the  city  of  St.  John's  still  shows." 

"I  have  some  sad  records,"  said  Randolph,  "of  the 
hatred  felt  for  the  Tories.  What  with  personal  violence 
and  confiscations,  they  were  very  hardly  used.  Those 
who  were  in  arms  for  the  king  may  have  given  cause, 
if  not  excuse,  but  many,  not  all  of  the  Society  of 
Friends,  were  really  neutral,  and  in  some  cases  paid 
dear  for  their  inoffensive  loyalty." 

"  We  must  have  changed  greatly,"  said  Vincent. 
"  Where  else  has  a  great  civil  war  ended  without 
cruel  retribution  and  wholesale  confiscation  ? " 

"  Every  one  was  weary  of  slaughter,"  said  Randolph. 

"No,"  said  Vincent,  "it  was  not  that.  We  are 
changing  as  a  nation— I  should  say  as  a  race,  for  only 
one  breed  really  expresses  itself  in  our  story.  The 
race  which  gave  us  a  language  is  our  race  despite  the 
various  tribes  it,  like  the  motherland,  has  swallowed. 
No  other  race  has  such  assimilative  capacity.  I  think 


DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  235 

the  language  has  something  to  do  with  that.  It  is  a 
conquering  tongue.  I  am  talking  rather  slackly, 
Randolph,  but  to  thresh  all  this  out  would  be  tedious, 
at  least  here.  It  is,  at  all  events,  sure  that  we  are 
to-day  a  gentler-minded  people  than  we  were,  and 
perhaps  than  are  our  cousins  across  the  sea." 

"  A  good  many  of  thy  theses  I  shall  like  to  discuss 
and  dispute,"  said  Randolph.  "Certainly  amid  all 
the  horrors  of  our  great  war — 

I  knew  how  much  Mrs.  Vincent  disliked  what  we 
others  liked,  "a  good  war  talk."  I  therefore  inter 
rupted  the  good  doctor,  as  if  I  had  not  heard  him. 
He  was  about  to  resume  when  Sibyl,  who  was  using 
my  glass,  exclaimed :  "  What  a  pretty  little  town  set 
among  the  trees,  and  so  many  boats  and  nets  on  the 
shore,  and  dories,  and,  oh,  men  in  'ilers'— is  n't  that 
correct?  I  seem  to  smell  fish  and  tar.  If  Mr.  St. 
Clair  were  here  he  would  put  it  into  verse." 

Welcoming  the  interruption,  I  said:  "Everything 
pretty  is  in  verse  somewhere." 

"  Find  it,"  said  Vincent.  "  Come  now,  Mrs.  North, 
Sibyl." 

"  Will  this  do  ? "  she  said.    "  I  learned  it  a  week  ago. 

"  The  wind  blows  coldly  from  the  north 
On  winter  dawns,  when  in  the  gray 
Dim  light  the  fisherfolk  set  forth, 
And  in  their  dories  ride  away. 

"  All  day  a  golden  sunlight  sleeps 

On  the  gray  town ;  and  hour  by  hour 
The  sea  its  calm  reflection  keeps 
All  golden  as  a  golden  flower." 


236  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

" How  simple,  how  effective ! "  said  I  j  "and  the 
rest?" 

"  I  do  not  know  any  more.     There  is  more." 

"No  one  cares  for  verse  in  these  days/7  said  I.  " I 
know  many  men  who  have  not  read  a  line  of  it  for 
years.  The  young  no  longer  read  it.  There  was  a 
time  when  verse  was  the  best-paid  form  of  literary 
product.  Now  who  buys  poetry  ? " 

"  And  yet/'  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  a  great  lover  of  verse, 
"it  is,  as  I  see  it,  a  natural  mode  of  expressing 
thought.  The  first  history  is  in  verse.  Children  like 
to  rhyme." 

"And  some  insane  folks/'  said  I,  "if  that  will  help 
you." 

"  Is  it,"  said  Vincent,  "  because  we  have  become 
more  critical  that  verse  seems  to  us  artificial  1 " 

"No,"  said  Randolph,  "it  is  not  that.  It  is  more 
artificial  than  it  once  was.  The  early  verse  was  of 
and  for  the  people.  Who  writes  for  them  now? 
Verse  became  by  degrees  the  luxury  of  the  refined. 
Can  you  interest  the  laborer  or  mechanic  in  any  verse 
which  any  man  writes  to-day  ?  To  do  that  he  must 
use  their  tongue,  know  their  ways ;  and  when  such 
verse  as  this  comes  to  life  it  will  be  simple.  We  want 
an  American  Burns.  He  will  have  a  hearing." 

"  There  was  an  age  in  all  nations  when  music  and 
lyric  verse  were  inseparable,"  said  Vincent.  "It 
must  have  been  in  the  blood  of  Elizabeth's  time, 
but  of  that  we  have  talked  more  than  once.  And 
speaking  of  this  naturalness  of  verse  as  a  vehicle  of 
thought,  when  I  told  Clayborne  that  he  must  admit 
that  men  when  dying  would  be  apt  to  be  natural,  he 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  237 

said  promptly,  l  No,  never  less  so,'  and  that  the  mak 
ing  of  verse  at  such  times  was  a  decisive  argument 
against  verse  being  natural.  This  rather  anticipated 
my  argument  by  strangling  the  premise." 

"I  recall  the  talk,"  said  L  "We  mentioned  the 
case  of  the  second  Essex,  the  doubtful  one  of  Kaleigh, 
Tichborne's,  and  the  sad  instance  of  Everard  Digby, 
who  spent  the  day  before  his  execution  in  writing 
execrable  verse  to  his  wife  and  children.  There  are 
others." 

"And,"  said  my  wife,  "it  was  so  like  Mr.  Clayborne 
to  turn  on  us  with  no  end  of  illustrations  to  help  the 
argument,  our  argument." 

"The  queerest,"  added  Mrs.  Vincent,  "were  Ori 
ental.  He  said,  as  I  understood  him,  that  several  of 
the  princes  of  the  house  of  Othman,  when  condemned 
to  the  bowstring,  asked  for  a  respite  of  some  hours 
that  they  might  express  their  death-thought  in  verse." 

"  I,"  said  my  wife,  "  can  in  no  way  conceive  of 
that  as  possible.  You  forgot  the  French  cases,  and 
especially  that  of  Andre  Chenier." 

"Yes,  quite  true,"  I  said.  "Since  the  ballad  died 
and  the  song  has  gone  out  of  the  every-day  life  of 
men,  I  suspect  that  poetry  has  become  such  that 
only  the  cultivated  class  are  likely  to  care  for  it, 
and  they,  it  seems,  care  but  little." 

"And  yet,"  said  Randolph,  "how  gladly  an  au 
dience  which  does  not  read  verse  listens  to  verse,  if 
it  be  fairly  well  read  aloud  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Vincent.  "  When  men's  memories  were 
the  only  books  and  the  king's  singer  his  library,  no 
one  recited  prose.  There  is  some  charm  in  words 


238  DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

read  aloud  as  compared  with  those  which  only  the 
eye  sees.  The  ear  must  attend.  It  cannot  shut  out 
the  spoken  words.  It  has  no  lids.  See  how  readily 
some  fluent  fool  on  the  platform  captures  an  audience. 
You  or  they  must  go  back  to  cool  print  to  recover 
reason.  The  eye  corrects  the  ear.  The  fate  of  a 
nation's  honor  may  hang  on  this  fact." 

"  That  is  all  true,  Vincent,"  I  said.  "  It  would  be 
clearer  if  stated  at  greater  length." 

"  Yes,"  said  my  wife.  "  I  did  not  quite  follow  the 
thought." 

"And  yet  you  must  recall,  Alice,  my  reading  to 
you  and  your  cousins  that  poem  of  Woodville's.  It 
is  spirited,  vigorous,  made  for  recitation.  It  visibly 
stirred  two  women  of  not  very  imaginative  nature. 
Miss  Margaret  said  to  me  afterward,  'I  read  that 
soberly  after  you  left.  There  is  not  much  in  it.'  I 
said,  *  Soberly !  Why,  it  describes  a  charge  of  cav 
alry.  Shout  it.  Can  you  blow  a  trumpet  soberly  ? ' " 

"  I  wish,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  verse  were  like 
music,  and  had  always  to  be  heard." 

"  I  think,"  said  Vincent,  "  that,  with  us,  the  peo 
ple's  poet  has  yet  to  come.  But  even  to-day  now 
and  then  some  rare  bit  of  verse  captures  the  popular 
ear,  some  poem  echoes  the  mood  of  the  nation,  and 
shows  how  one  man  can  justify  the  use  of  verse  to 
say  nobly,  as  prose  cannot,  what  is  in  the  heart  of 
every  one." 

"  I  fancy,"  said  Mrs.  North,  "  that  the  higher  poetry 
never  has  had  in  any  time  a  great  audience." 

"  And  is  it  not  strange,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  that  all 
the  great  national  songs  came  from  the  minor  poets  ?  " 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  239 

"  Indeed/'  said  my  wife,  "  that  is  no  doubt  true. 
I  never  thought  of  it  before.  But  I  hate  the  adjec 
tive  'minor'  applied  to  poets.  No  one  says  minor 
novelists.  By  the  way,  Anne,  Haydn's  *  Austrian 
Hymn'  is  the  one  piece  of  really  great  national 
music  composed  by  a  musician  of  celebrity.  The 
minor  poets  wrote  the  great  national  songs,  and  the 
minor  musicians  fitted  them  to  music  j  but  why, 
Anne,"— and  she  turned  again  to  Mrs.  Vincent,— 
"does  the  adjective  'minor'  applied  to  the  lesser 
poets  seem  so  objectionable  to  me  1  I  have  heard 
you  say  the  same  thing.  It  sounds  reasonably  de 
scriptive.  As  usual,  I  find  myself  unable  to  defend 
my  opinion  in  words." 

"Because,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "you  cannot  classify 
poets.  Do  you  judge  by  the  quality  of  verse  ?  Then 
at  times  the  great  masters  are  very  minor  poets,  or  the 
reverse  is  true.  Do  you  judge  by  the  vitality  of  verse  ? 
Who  wrote  the  hymns  we  love  the  best,  the  songs,  the 
ballads?  The  minor  poets,  surely.  A  delightful 
golden— may  I  say  silver?— treasury  could  be  made 
out  of  our  minor  poets.  I  should  not  object  to  be 
called  any  kind  of  a  poet,  were  I  ever  so  small  a  poet. 
St.  Clair  is  furious  when  a  critic  describes  him  as  a 
minor  poet." 

"And  yet  he  is,"  said  Vincent. 

"Are  you  a  minor  lawyer?"  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  cried  Vincent,  laughing,  "  and  I  abide  by 
my  adjective.  As  to  poetry,  the  law  has  produced  no 
poets.  I  am  excused  by  the  despotism  of  statistics. 
I  am  a  lawyer,  therefore  I  cannot  be  a  poet." 

"  Oh,  was  not  Goethe?"  ventured  Sibyl. 


240  DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  lie  replied,  laughing.  "  Some 
one  always  annihilates  my  efforts  at  generalization." 

Mrs.  Vincent  scarcely  approved  of  any  one's  cor 
recting  her  husband.  She  never  did  so  herself  without 
an  apology.  Now  she  said :  "  Sibyl,  you  have  lived 
too  long  in  Mr.  Clayborne's  society,  and," — smiling, — 
"you  know,  dear,  accuracy  is  very  destructive  of  con 
versation." 

"  And  of  poetry,"  said  Vincent. 

"The  sad  fact  remains,"  said  Randolph,  "few 
people  read  verse.  I  myself  find  it  hard  to  under 
stand  the  intelligent  life  which  finds  no  pleasure  or 
help  in  good  verse.  To  write  it  well  must  be  an 
indescribable  joy." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Miss  May  wood,  demure  as  a  kitten, 
"  folks  wickedly  credit  you  with  being  pessimistic." 

Mrs.  Vincent  turned  to  Sibyl,  amused  at  this  bold 
onset. 

"la  pessimist!  My  dear  young  lady,  thou  art 
wrong.  I  am  only  an  old  fellow  who,  from  the 
mountain  summit  of  years,  sees  truly  the  world  be 
low  him.  I  see  disaster,  failure,  corruption,  a  people 
indifferent  except  to  money,  laws  made  only  to  be 
broken,  unanswerable  questions  ahead  of  us,  like  that 
of  the  negro.  The  angels  must  grin  at  this  final  ex 
periment  in  democracy.  It  is  sad  to  look  down  on  it, 
as  I  do,  from  the  serenity  of  years." 

Amused  by  the  fine  certainties  of  this  confident 
and  cheerful  old  gentleman,  Vincent  said  dryly :  "The 
world  looks  flat  from  mountain-tops.  But  what, 
Sibyl,  is  the  connection  in  your  mind  between  poet 
and,  shall  I  venture  to  say,  pessimist  ?  " 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  241 

"  Only  this :  the  great  poets  are  never  pessimists." 

"  I  think,"  said  Randolph,  "  thou  must  be  getting 
better.  The  sick  are  pessimistic." 

" Indeed,  I  am  better/'  she  said,  "and  I  think  your 
dark  views  of  the  country  and  the  future  are  pure 
humbug." 

"  My  dear  Sibyl !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  Oh,  but  let  me  end,"  she  cried,  coloring.  "  The 
good  doctor  is  a  priceless  friend.  Everything  near 
and  personal  he  believes  in  with  undying  faith,  and 
everything  large  and  remote  he  criticizes  severely.  If 
that  be  a  real  pessimist,  we  must  emend  the  diction 
aries." 

No  one  could  help  laughing.  The  courage  and 
truth  of  the  statement  were  startling. 

"  I  bow  to  the  verdict,  and  thank  thee  for  the  com 
pliment,"  said  Randolph,  in  his  old-fashioned  manner. 

"Well,  there  goes  the  anchor,"  said  Vincent.  "We 
are  at  home  again." 


XV 


[E  liked  at  Bar  Harbor  to  dine  at  six  or 
ivy//  ^  I  e^se  a^er  e*ght,  so  as  to  be  free  for  the 
I  yy  JM  sunset  time.  Thus  it  came  about  that 
one  day  at  evening  we  were  on  the  lawn, 
a  hundred  feet  from  the  shore.  The 
tide  was  slowly  moving  up  the  bay.  The  scene  was 
set  in  gold.  The  sky  was  aglow  with  dark,  orange- 
tinted  clouds;  the  sea,  a  shimmering  plane  of  paler 
gold;  the  Gouldsborough  hills  domes  of  darkling 
gold. 

Said  Randolph :  "I  have  been  reflecting  upon  the 
verdict  of  pessimist  which  Miss  Maywood  pronounced 
upon  me." 

"  There  is  time  to  reform,"  said  I. 
"Oh,  you  are  all  optimists.  Wait  awhile;  time 
converts  most  women  and  all  men  to  pessimism.  I 
think  of  the  world  as  growing  worse.  It  is  to  me  a 
failure;  I  mean  the  whole  of  it,  not  merely  this  un- 
governed  country." 

Said  Sibyl  quietly:  "Do  you  think  its  Maker  meant 
it  to  be  ?     I  mean  the  world's  Maker." 
"  I  do  not  know." 
"  And  yet  you  believe  as — " 
"  Yes,  as  thou  dost." 
"  Then  you  cannot  be  a  pessimist." 
The  doctor  was  quiet  for  a  moment.      "I  am  not 
242 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  243 

more  or  worse  than  a  chronic  doubter.  I  am  by  na 
ture  apprehensive.  My  sense  of  duty  has  always 
been  urgent.  Had  I  lacked  its  higher  source  I 
should  have  been  of  little  use.  I  have  always  lived 
in  an  atmosphere  of  doubt  as  to  my  creed,  myself, 
the  future,  as  to  every  one  but  my  friends." 

"  And  yet—"  said  Sibyl. 

"Yes,"  he  returned,  "I  understand,  Friend  Sibyl. 
I  shall  not  take  up  thy  glove.  How  can  I  believe  as 
I  do  and  yet  think  the  world  so  far,  and  despite 
Christianity,  a  failure  ?  I  do  not  say  it  will  be,  I  say 
only  that  so  far  it  is." 

"  Oh,  oh !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  That  is  fine.  I  myself 
hate  the  very  word  i  pessimist.'  I  think  it  modern." 

"  Of  the  last  century,"  said  Vincent.  "  Was  it  not 
St.  Clair  who  said  l  doubt  is  only  hope  crippled '  ?  " 

"  Dead  lame  at  times,"  said  Randolph. 

"  Then  it  is  despair,"  cried  Sibyl. 

"  I  hate  St.  Glair's  morsels  of  wisdom,"  said  Vin 
cent.  "Hope  is  emotional 5  doubt  is  of  the  mind. 
Why  mix  the  things  ? " 

"  Let  me  go  on,"  said  Randolph.  "  Set  aside  America. 
Can  you  look  at  Spain,  Italy,  France,  and  not  share 
my  belief  as  to  human  failure  ? " 

"But,"  said  Vincent,  "history  is  a  record  of  neces 
sary,  even  of  desirable  failures.  Is  not  the  destruction 
of  the  inadequate  hopeful  ?  The  world  has  been  drown 
ing  her  bad  puppies  ever  since  the  world  began." 

"Are  not  the  four  conquering  races  rising  in  all 
ways  ? "  said  my  wife.  "  These  have  futures." 

"  What ?  "  said  the  doctor.    "Who  ?    What  races  ? " 

"  England,  Russia,  America  j  I  add  Germany  with 


244  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

doubt.  And  these  are  still  the  religious  nations,  or 
rather  the  peoples  with  whom  religion  is  a  part  of 
their  national  life." 

"  And  the  Turk,"  said  I. 

"  Yes,  even  the  Turk.  It  is  his  honest  belief  which 
has  made  him  the  capable  soldier  and  kept  him  in 
Europe." 

"  When/7  said  I,  "  the  German  becomes  like  his  pro 
fessors,  without  religious  belief,  the  French,  who  are 
naturally  better  soldiers,  not  merely  organized  war- 
machines,  will  go  to  Berlin.  I  should  be  sorry—" 

"  Pardon  me.  Who  is  that  on  the  slip  ? "  said 
Vincent. 

"  Miss  Norreys,  I  fancy,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  And  who,  Anne,  is  Miss  Norreys  ? " 

"  I  met  her  on  Great  Head  when  we  went  to  see 
the  surf  in  the  storm  a  week  ago." 

"  That  does  not  enlighten  me." 

"  She  is  English." 

"  Oh !  " 

"  A  governess." 

"Ah!" 

"  Handsome  and  intelligent." 

"  That  is  better." 

"  She  asked  leave  to  sketch  here.  It  is  getting  too 
dark  now.  I  wish,  Fred,  you  would  go  and  ask  her 
to  join  us  for  tea.  Come,  I  will  go  with  you." 

"  If  you  wish,  certainly.  Is  this  a  new  addition  to 
your  social  menagerie,  Anne  ? "  he  asked  as  he  rose. 

"  Cynicism  fits  you  like  ready-made  clothes,  Fred." 

"  I  indorse  Mrs.  Vincent's  views  as  to  Miss  Nor 
reys,"  said  Randolph.  "  I  met  Miss  Norreys  in  Italy 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  245 

years  ago,  and  shall  be  glad  to  meet  her  again.  I 
will  go  with  thee,  Vincent." 

When  we  saw  them  returning  with  the  lady  in 
question,  my  wife  went  forward  to  meet  them,  while 
Sibyl,  rising  in  her  hammock,  considered  the  tall, 
handsome  Englishwoman. 

"  She  is  very  nice,"  she  said  to  me,  decidedly, 
while  as  yet  Miss  Norreys  was  a  hundred  feet  away. 
"  I  like  her."  This  judgment  was  pronounced  at 
fifty  feet.  "  She  has  a  friendly  face,"  was  whispered 
at  twenty-five  feet.  "  She  is  friendlikely." 

"Not  a  bad  word,  Sibyl." 

She  had  a  way  of  coining  words  which  Clayborne 
disliked,  but  which  St.  Clair  and  I  fancied.  It  seemed 
to  me  a  relic  of  the  childlike  ways  which  at  times 
came  out  so  distinctly  in  this  interesting  nature. 
Being  thus  approved  of,  she  smiled  one  of  the  many 
smiles  out  of  a  large  armament.  It  said  so  surely 
"Thank  you,"  that  this  little  current  coin  became 
golden. 

We  were  presented,  and  Miss  Norreys  sat  down 
beside  Sibyl,  and  began  in  a  quiet  voice  to  talk  of 
sunsets  at  Venice  or  on  the  Nile.  She  seemed  at  once 
to  understand  the  frail  girl  in  the  hammock,  so  that 
presently  Sibyl  glanced  at  me  archly  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  I  was  right,  you  see." 

Said  Randolph :  "  I  think  I  saw  thee  at  a  distance 
on  Newport  Mountain  yesterday." 

"  Yes.  I  am  fond  of  walking,  and  my  two  charges, 
the  Misses  Graham,  have  gone  away  with  their  aunt 
to  Quebec  for  a  week.  I  am  free ;  and  to  be  off  sen 
tinel  duty  for  a  while  is,  I  assure  you,  a  vast  relief. 

17 


246  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

I  never  took  very  kindly  to  my  work  as  a  gover 
ness." 

"  When/'  said  Randolph,  "  we  first  met,  thou  hadst 
quite  another  line  of  business." 

"  Yes,"  she  returned,  smiling,  "  and  I  find  most  peo 
ple  think  it  a  rather  queer  one." 

" May  I  ask  you  what  it  was?"  said  my  wife. 

"  Certainly.    I  taught  the  art  of  conversation." 

"  Bless  me  !  "  said  Sibyl,  much  amused.  "  I  should 
like  to  take  lessons." 

"  I  think  you  might  give  them,"  said  Miss  Norreys. 

My  wife  declared  for  a  class.  It  should  include 
the  art  of  listening  and  how  to  begin  a  talk. 

"  And  how  to  end  it,"  I  suggested. 

"And  the  gentle  art  of  interruption,"  cried  Mrs. 
Vincent. 

"  Make  your  mind  easy  as  to  that,"  said  Vincent, 
viciously. 

"  As  to  the  beginnings  of  talk,"  said  Miss  Norreys, 
"there  is  a  queer  little  book  called  'Conversational 
Openings/  like  chess  problems.  It  is  not  first-rate, 
and  some  people  took  it  frankly.  I  do  not  suggest  it 
as  a  text-book." 

"  I  should  think,"  said  I,  "  that  a  book  like  that 
might  be  entertaining.  My  friend  Wendell  Holmes 
should  have  written  it.  How  to  end  a  talk  is  the 
difficult  art." 

"  The  book  is  amusing,"  said  Miss  Norreys,  but 
might  have  been  much  better.  It  is  too— well- 
obvious.  For  instance,  there  is  the  bread  opening, 
or  the  salt  with  remarks  on  salt  superstitions ;  or  the 
general  opening,  as,  l  What  shall  we  talk  about,  Miss 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  247 

Black?'  And  then,  too,  there  is  what  I  may  call  the 
personal  gambit.  It  is  like  this.  I  may  be  invent 
ing,  not  quoting.  Black  says :  '  Do  you  know  Mrs. 
Blank  ?  You  remind  me  of  her.'  White :  '  I  do  not, 
and  I  have  a  curious  dislike  to  being  supposed  to  be 
like  other  people.'  Black,  revising  his  opinion :  i  Oh, 
I  should  have  said  she  looks  like  you.'  White :  t  That 
is  better.  Is  she  as  agreeable  as  my  double  ought  to 
be  ? '  etc.  It  is  a  hopeful  opening." 

"  I  like  that,"  said  Randolph.     "  TeU  us  more." 

"  Well,  the  interrogative  gambit  affords  chances. 
Black  opens  : i  Do  not  you  wonder  how  the  modern  din 
ner  was  evolved  ? '  White  fails  to  accept  her  chance, 
and  says  feebly:  <I  really  never  thought  about  it.' 
Stale  mate;  best  to  try  the  woman  on  the  other 
side.  In  England,  where  we  rarely  present  guests, 
conversation  must  be  an  experimental  art  for  a 
stranger." 

"And  yet  I  like  your  way,"  said  Vincent.  "It 
gives  the  zest  of  discovery,  of  investigation.  It  has 
also  its  awkward  side.  I  once  criticized  severely  to  a 
male  dinner  neighbor  the  last  work  of  a  well-known 
novelist.  At  last  he  said  pleasantly,  'You  may  be 
right.  I  shall  do  better  next  time.'  Then  I  knew  I 
had  been  beside  the  author." 

"  But  who  was  it  ? "  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  I  decline  to  state." 

"  I  think  you  are  rather  cruel,"  said  I. 

"  When  you  women  retire,"  said  Vincent,  "you  have 
an  easy  game :  the  servant  gambit,  the  baby  gambit, 
the  husband  gambit." 

"  Oh,  yes  j  the  book  deals  largely  with  these." 


248  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  For  shame  !  "  said  my  wife.  "  And  what  do  you 
men  talk?" 

"  That  you  will  never  know/7  said  Vincent  "  One 
has  dinner  adventures  in  England.  I  once  took  a 
dowager  in  to  dinner,  or  out— which  is  it  they  say  in 
England,  Miss  Norreys?" 

"  Out,  please." 

"  She  fell  into  chat  with  her  neighbor,  and  I  natu 
rally  spoke  to  the  woman  on  my  left.  I  said :  i  One 
who  is  strange  to  London  is  at  some  disadvantage 
with  your  custom  of  assuming  that  every  one  knows 
everybody.  '  She  :  l  It  seems  incredible.'  I :  'It  is 
sometimes  embarrassing.'  She  :  1 1  rarely  take  soup.' 
I,  accepting  the  play:  'The  national  soups  might 
make  a  curious  menu.'  She  :  *  I  cannot  credit  such  a 
story.'  I,  bewildered :  l  Our  best  soup  we  call  gumbo.' 
She :  *  Yes,  the  beau  has  gone  out ;  now  it  is  the— 
some  vulgar  word— masher,  is  n't  it  ? '  I,  very  loud, 
beginning  to  suspect  the  truth :  l  Gumbo  soup.'  She : 
1  Yes.  Gum.  Bird-nests.  Just  so.'  She  was  deaf,  and 
now  and  then  caught  on  to  a  word ;  never  asked  you 
to  speak  louder,  and  sturdily  plunged  through  with 
out  confessing  her  defect." 

"Tell  us,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "how  you  came  to 
teach  conversation." 

"  Yes,  pray  do,"  added  my  wife. 

"With  pleasure.  My  father  is  a  clergyman  with 
a  large  family  of  daughters.  We  took  to  nursing,  news 
paper  work,  or  teaching.  After  two  years  of  school- 
teaching,  I  was  on  my  way  from  London  to  York  to 
take  a  new  place  as  governess.  The  second-class  car 
riages  were  full,  and  I  was  put  in  a  first-class.  In  it 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  249 

were  two  very  well-dressed  women  of  middle  age.  It 
chanced  that  I  had  come  to  the  station  with  an  old  aunt 
who  lives  in  France.  She  bade  me  good-by  in  French, 
and  I  replied  in  the  same  tongue,  chatting  until  the 
train  moved.  I  presume  that  the  two  women  took  me 
to  be  French.  Certainly  they  talked  with  great  frank 
ness,  reassured,  I  suppose,  by  my  apparent  want  of  in 
terest.  I  was  listening  eagerly.  '  We  had  good  intro 
ductions  and  went  about  a  lot.  Mrs.  Laurence  told  her 
friends  that  Susan  would  have  half  a  million  and  more 
to  come.  But,  my  dear,  you  know  Susan  !  She  just 
is  n't  one  bit  like  most  of  our  girls.  She  honestly 
expects  those  men  to  amuse  her.  They  just  don't. 
She  has  n't  any  talk  in  her:  A  man  says,  "Do 
you  like  it  here  in  the  season?"  and  Sue  says,  "Not 
awful  much,"  and  shuts  up  like  scissors.  Then  he 
says,  "Awful  jolly  at  Hurlingham;  ever  been 
there?"  and  she  says,  "You  just  ought  to  see  Chi 
cago."  Usually  that  man  collapses,  and  they  dance, 
or  don't.  What  can  I  do?'  The  other  woman  said, 
*  I  do  think  there  should  be  some  one  to  teach  con 
versation/  i  Dear  me !  I  would  give  ten  pounds, 
oh,  guineas  a  week  to  find  some  one  to  do  that. 
Susan  is  incredible.  Up  comes  a  man,  oh,  a  right 
nice  one,  too,— Sir  John  or  Lord  Somebody,— and  in 
about  two  minutes  the  talk  just  pines  away.'  Here 
was  my  chance,  so  I  said,  i  Pardon  me  •  I  can  teach 
conversation,  madam.'  Indeed,  I  had  had  to  teach 
children  in  a  way.  '  How  much  is  twice  two  ? '  and 
so  on.  i  Railly ! '  She  said  it  very  well,  and  quite 
like  us.  She  put  up  a  pair  of  gold  eye-glasses  and 
regarded  me.  l  It  would  have  to  be  a  lady/  she  said. 


250  DE.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS 

'That  is/  I  returned,  'a  woman  of— well— accus 
tomed  to  society.'  'Yes,  that  's  about  it.'  It  was 
good  fun,  so  I  went  on  and  said  grandly,  'I  am  a 

relative  of  the  Earl  of  C .'  I  am,  but  he  is  only 

a  second  cousin,  and  I  never  in  my  life  have  seen 
him,  except  in  ' Punch.'  'He  is  in  the  cabinet,'  I 
added.  This  answered  very  well,  and  with  some 
rather  clever  fencing  as  to  who  and  what  I  was  and 
had  been,  we  came  to  a  conclusion.  I  wired  at  once, 
declining  the  place  of  governess,  and  settled  down  at 
Bath  to  teach  Susan  conversation.  It  was  great  fun. 
She  was  as  shy  as  a  swallow,  but  f  railly '  not  stupid. 
We  got  on  well.  She  was  very  pretty,  and  when,  later, 
in  London,  I  found  out  who  were  the  men  on  hand,  I 
got  up  her  talk  for  the  dinners.  The  rehearsals  were 
fit  for  the  stage.  Sometimes  the  unexpected  turned 
up,  and  Susan  was,  as  her  brother  said, t  dead  broke.' 
'  She  ain't  very  suggestive/  he  remarked.  Neverthe 
less,  she  married  Lord  B ,  and,  I  hope,  has  not  re 
lapsed.  My  success  brought  other  pupils.  I  made  a 
good  thing  of  it,  and  some  hearty  friendships.  At 
last  I  was  persuaded  to  come  to  America  with  two 
young  women  and  their  mother.  I  must  say  they 
need  no  coaching  in  the  art  of  talk." 

"  Conversation  ? "  said  I. 

"  No,  talk.     No  one  under  thirty  can  converse." 

"A  friend  of  ours,  Mr.  Clayborne,  would  fix  the 
time  at  forty,"  said  Vincent.  "  But  how  did  you  set 
about  it  ?  Your  lessons,  I  mean." 

"  Oh,  I  was  the  man.  We  went  over  no  end  of 
subjects,  such  as  politics,  fox-hunting,  English  and 
American  ways.  Then  we  got  up  a  limited  list  of 


DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  251 

brief  quotations.  Some  of  these  girls  were  most  apt, 
and  not  all  Americans.  It  was  great  fun  when  Lord 

B fell  in  love.  Susan  was  frank,  and  I  conducted 

the  affair  with— well,  I  did  it  admirably  until  Susan 
fell  in  love,  too  j  and  after  that  she  grew  less  confid 
ing.  I  dropped  out  as  I  ceased  to  learn  what  passed. 
When  sign-language  is  added  I  am  at  the  end  of  my 
science." 

"  Sign-language  ?  "  asked  Sibyl. 

We  broke  into  laughter,  and  declined  to  explain. 

"Incredibly  delightful,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "Ah, 
here  is  the  mail.  Let  us  go  into  the  house.  I  must 
see  my  letters.  Come,  Miss  Norreys.  No,  you  can 
not  go  yet.  You  must  have  your  tea,  and  we  will 
send  you  home  in  the  dog-cart  whenever  you  must 
needs  go." 

In  the  house  my  wife  made  tea.  The  talk  became 
general,  while  Mrs.  Vincent,  excusing  herself,  ran 
over  the  letters. 

"One  for  you,  Fred,  and  two  for  you,  doctor.  Oh, 
and  one  from  St.  Clair.  I  must  read  that.  Miss 
Norreys,  you  will  pardon  me  ?  Fred,  show  those 
photos  of  Otter  Creek  to  Miss  Norreys." 

Fred  obeyed,  chatting  over  the  pictures  with  Sibyl 
and  Miss  Norreys. 

Presently  Mrs.  Vincent  said  :  "Fred,  come  here.  You 
were  right.  Read  that." 

Fred  took  the  letter.  "  Good  gracious ! "  he  ex 
claimed,  laughing.  "  This  is  too  good  to  keep." 

"What  is  it?"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  Xerxes  has  revenged  himself.  I  was  sure  he 
would." 


252  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Xerxes  ? "  said  Miss  Norreys.  "  Pardon  me.  Is 
that  a  man's  name  ?  " 

"  Yes/'  I  said,  and  then  Vincent  gaily  described  the 
great  duel  between  Xerxes  and  our  sculptor.  The 
amazement  of  the  Englishwoman  was,  as  comment, 
most  interesting. 

"You  certainly  must  permit  me  to  say  that  you 
are  an  amazing  people." 

"Wait,  Miss  Norreys,  until  you  hear  the  letter. 
There  is  a  climax.  St.  Clair  is  the  spoiled  child  of  our 
little  circle." 

"What!  St.  Clair,  the  poet,  the  sculptor?  I  should 
so  much  like  to  see  him." 

"  The  letter,  the  letter !  "  said  we. 

"  Read  it,  oh,  do  read  it !  "  said  Sibyl. 

"  It  is  long." 

"  No  matter ;  let  us  have  it." 

Thus  urged,  she  read :  "  l  DEAR  MRS.  VINCENT  : 
Xerxes  has  got  even  with  me.  He  presented  my 
Indian  chief  to  a  Cuban  cigar-shop  on  Broadway. 
Now  he  stands  outside  for  a  sign.  He  draws  crowds 
every  day.  As  Xerxes  goes  down -town  he  buys  a 
cigar  and  grins  at  my  chief.' 

"  Oh,  here  is  a  clipping  from  the  l  Tribunal's '  art  col 
umn  :  '  The  well-known  railway  man  whose  bust  by  St. 
Clair  we  noticed  must  have  come  to  a  realizing  sense 
of  that  too  remarkable  marble.  Is  it  a  vendetta  ?  He 
has  presented  St.  Clair's  noble  statue  of  the  "  Indian 
Chief  "  to  Diego's  cigar-shop.  If  it  be  a  vendetta,  it  is 
otherwise  appreciated  by  the  public,  as  every  one 
pauses  to  look  at  the  chief.  But  what  will  he  do 
with  the  bust  of  the  E.  E.  R .  T ' " 


DR.   NOETH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  253 

"  That  is  a  railroad  robber,  Miss  Norreys,"  I  ex 
plained.  "  Go  on,  Mrs.  Vincent." 

"  Pardon  me/'  said  Miss  Norreys.  "  You  must  have 
very  frank  newspapers." 

Mrs.  Vincent  continued :  "  1 1  wrote  and  thanked 
Xerxes  for  giving  the  public  so  good  a  chance,  and 
advised  him  to  keep  the  bust  for  his  tombstone,  in 
place  of  an  epitaph.  Oh,  't  is  a  very  pretty  quarrel. 
I  should  like  to  hear  what  Mrs.  Xerxes  thinks  of  it. 
Let  him  wallow.  Here  is  something  better. 

"  1 1  went  to  Marquette,  bought  a  canoe  and  a  tent, 
and  slipped  away  at  daybreak  over  Muscakeewininy 
Gitchie,  that  is,  Big  Water,  Lake  Superior.  It  was 
as  smooth  as  a  mill-pond.  I  slept  at  Grand  Isle. 
Next  day  at  sunset  I  ran  up  on  the  shore,  midway 
of  the  Pictured  Rocks.  Here  is  a  beach  of  pink- 
and-white  pebbles.  A  cascade  falls  on  to  it  from 
the  bluff  above.  East  and  west  stretch  cliffs  of 
white  sandstone,  cut  into  fantastic  forms  by  the 
water  when  the  land  was  lower  or  the  lake  higher. 
From  the  strata  oozes  out  moisture  tinted  with  the 
purples  of  manganese,  the  greens  of  copper,  the  yel 
lows  or  browns  of  iron.  Lichens,  silver,  golden, 
gray,  or  black,  grow  where  the  water  trickles  forth. 
At  evening  I  stole  out  through  the  twilight  in  my  canoe 
under  the  rosy  light,  with  every  pebble  seen  below 
me  in  forty  feet  of  water.  Here,  to  my  right,  is  a 
vast  cave  facing  the  lake.  It  is  eighty  feet  high  by 
a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  wide,  half  of  a  vast  dome,  a 
mass  of  brilliant  color  like  a  town  afire.  A  little 
beyond  is  a  great  smooth  rock,  on  which  one  sees  a 
procession  of  men  in  black  robes  walking  over  ice, 


254  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

and  before  them  the  headsman  with  his  ax.  No 
one  lands  here.  I  went  up  on  to  the  bluff  and  saw  a 
bear.  He  ate  berries  twelve  feet  away,  apparently 
neither  scared  nor  hostile.  Meanwhile  I  half  filled  a 
pail  with  blueberries,  plucking  leaves  and  fruit,  with 
out  more  than  turning  round.  I  took  them  down  to 
the  lake  and  filled  up  my  bucket  with  water  at  45°  F., 
letting  the  leaves  float  out.  Good  for  breakfast  are 
the  berries,  with  the  chill  on  them.  I  took  a  few 
trout,  and  after  supper  and  making  camp  I  wan 
dered  down  the  shore.  The  moon  was  a  huge  red 
pearl  flashing  a  long  track  of  ruddy  color  to  my  feet. 
I  sat  down  in  a  druidical  temple,  the  weary  work 
of  wave  and  storm  through  countless  ages.  Vast 
columns  upheld  the  stone  roof,  on  which  tall  trees 
were  growing.  I  lit  my  pipe  and  lay  quiet.  Now 
and  then  rose  and  fell  strange  noises  from  the  wood- 
people  somewhere  behind  me.  The  long,  wild  trem 
olo  of  the  loons  shook  across  the  lake  as  they  sailed 
shoreward,  lured  by  the  red  glow  of  my  camp-fire. 
How  I  wished  you  all  were  with  me,  for,  indeed,  I  am 
at  my  best  here.  You  would—' " 

Here  Mrs.  Vincent  ceased  reading.  "  The  rest," 
she  said,  "  is  personal.  Oh,  Fred,  do  take  me  there 
next  summer." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,  and  as  you  want  to  see 
Xerxes,  we  will  ask  him,  and  as  you  are  planning  a 
country  house,  we  will  build  there." 

We  laughed.  Mrs.  Vincent  said  he  was  unpardon- 
ably  disagreeable,  and  I  asked  if  I  might  see  the 
letter.  After  glancing  over  it  I  said :  "  There  seems 
no  reason  why  Miss  Norreys  should  not  know  more 
of  our  friend." 


DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  255 

Mrs.  Vincent  said :  "  If  you  wish/'  and  I  read  aloud : 
" l  Here,  dear,  undeserved  friend,  you  would  for 
get  all  my  naughty  ways.  Here  is  no  material  pos 
sibility  of  weakness  or  wickedness;  not  a  woman, 
not  a  man— not  one.  How  that  simplifies  life !  The 
devil  could  not  be  bad  here.  What  commandment 
could  he  break?  You  will  say  he  can  bear  false 
witness,  but  who  is  his  neighbor !  The  bears  don't 
care.  He  cannot  lie.  But  there  is  no  commandment 
as  to  that,  and,  at  all  events,  no  one  to  lie  to.  Envy, 
hatred,  and  malice  require  objects.  The  bear  is  my 
only  neighbor.  We  are  on  terms  of  amity  and 
divide  the  berries.  In  a  word,  this  is  Eden  before 
Eve  came  and  tempted  that  innocent  snake  to  tempt 
her  in  turn,  as  a  poet  has  once  said. 

"  l  Dear  love  to  all.     Here  I  am  Saint  Clair.' " 
"The  hermits   understood   how    to    manufacture 
inevitable  virtue,"  said  Vincent. 
My  wife,  laughing,  quoted : 

"  Such  was  that  happy  garden  state 
While  man  there  walked  without  a  mate: 
After  a  place  so  pure  and  sweet, 
What  other  help  could  yet  be  meet? 
But  't  was  beyond  a  mortal's  share 
To  wander  solitary  there. 
Two  paradises  are  in  one 
To  live  in  paradise  alone." 

It  was  aptly  quoted,  and  I  said  so  with  a  nod. 
Then,  returning  to  the  letter,  I  came  upon  a  postscript : 
"  l  Xerxes  has  been  given  a  degree  by  Cucumber  Col 
lege.  Imagine  Xerxes  LL.D.  I  do  not  quite  recall 
the  real  name  of  the  college.  It  is  a  bisexual 


256  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS   FRIENDS 

university,  I  think.  L.S.D.  were  a  better  degree, 
but  the  joke  is  no  good  on  this  side  the  seas.  I  think 
of  sending  it  to  "  Punch."  > 

"  How  like  him !  "  I  said,  returning  the  letter  to 
Mrs.  Vincent. 
>        "  And  now  I  must  go,"  said  Miss  Norreys. 

"  One  moment/7  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  This  is  so 
like  him — a  second  postscript:  'I  have  seen  the  most 
beautiful  woman.  It  was  at  Muskrat  Bay.  Her 
husband  is  a  German.  He  advertised  for  a  wife, 
and  got  this  glorious  creature.  It  is  such  a  pretty 
story.  We  sat  on  a  log  and  smoked  pipes  while  he 
told  me  all  about  it.  I  keep  it  for  you,  dear  lover  of 
tales.  V,  ST.  C.' » 


XVI 

was  ripe  October  before  we  were  again 
at  home.  Sibyl  was  better.  Now  and 
then,  for  days,  she  fell  into  silent  moods, 
but,  although  visibly  paler,  she  did  her 
lessened  work  to  Clayborne's  satisfac 
tion.  St.  Clair,  still  wandering,  wrote  at  intervals ; 
and  for  the  rest  of  us  life  went  on  as  usual.  I  was 
at  work ;  my  wife  was  busy  with  wonderful  plans  for 
keeping  women  what  they  are  and  making  them  all 
that  they  are  not.  Clayborne  was  writing  his  book  on 
the  Mohammedan  sects,  and  happy  over  a  promising 
lawsuit  concerning  an  irredeemable  ground-rent. 

I  was  sorry  and  glad  that  St.  Clair  was  absent; 
glad  for  Sibyl's  sake,  and  sorry  for  our  own.  When 
I  was  tired  and  worried  I  missed  his  persistent  cheer 
fulness  :  it  was  more  than  that  j  it  was  joyousness 
which  forgot  failures,  weaknesses,  and  worse  things, 
and  was  unassailable,  communicable  and  elevative. 

Late  in  November  we  were  again  to  dine  with 
Clayborne.  My  wife  having  an  engagement  else 
where,  I  went  alone  and  by  an  earlier  train,  in  order 
to  see  Clayborne  and  talk  with  him  undisturbed. 

I  said  to  him,  "  Let  us  see  the  vase,"  and,  he  assent 
ing,  we  walked  through  a  woodland  to  the  south  of 
the  Italian  garden.  The  ground  was  covered  with 
fallen  leaves,  in  that  chance  mingled  variety  which 

257 


25$  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

makes  so  beautiful  the  autumn  carpet  of  earth.  A 
few  remaining  leaves,  falling,  one  by  one,  through  the 
still  air,  fluttered  to  and  fro,  as  if  reluctant.  Here, 
before  us,  lay  a  little  open  space  surrounded  by  an 
cient  chestnut-trees.  From  underneath  a  rock  of  gray 
lichen-tinted  stone  rose  a  copious  spring,  and,  forming 
a  small  pool,  flowed  thence  down  the  hill.  Upon  the 
rock,  amid  ferns  and  above  the  spring-head,  stood 
the  white  wonder  of  St.  Glair's  vase.  The  pedestal 
was  absent.  I  recognized  the  taste  which  had  decided 
not  to  use  it  here,  and  asked  where  it  was.  St.  Clair  had 
said  he  would  keep  it,  but  it  was  like  the  man  to  forget. 

Clayborne  replied:  "About  the  house  somewhere. 
Sibyl  would  not  have  it,  and  chose  this  place  for  the 
vase.  She  was  so  decisive  as  to  the  pedestal  that  I 
gave  way.  The  proper  place  for  the  vase  is  the  hall 
or  the  garden." 

"  No,  no/'  said  I ;  "  she  was  right.  Here  the  vase 
will  soon  look  old  and  become  tinted  and  leaf- 
stained." 

"  So  said  Sibyl.  I  indulged  her,  of  course ;  but  now 
she  comes  here  in  this  chilly  autumn  weather,  and 
reads  or  sews.  You  sentimental  people  are  droll 
folks  to  me.  Sibyl  has  caught  it,  like  a  disease.  I 
think  it  is  partly  the  fault  of  St.  Clair.  She  used  to 
be  shy  about  expressing  her  sentimentalities.  Think 
of  her  telling  me  that,  some  day  at  dusk,  she  would 
see  Keats.  He  would  be  smiling  with  joy  to  find  his 
dream  set  in  marble.  St.  Clair  says  this  kind  of  thing 
to  astonish  me;  it  is  half,  or  wholly,  a  jest.  She  says 
it  in  an  assured  way,  as  you  or  I  might  say  we  ex 
pected  to  meet  Vincent  at  the  club." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  250 

I  said:  "Yes,  Sibyl  is  a  peculiar  person,  Clay- 
borne.  She  is  intellectual,  impressible,  full  of  senti 
ment.  The  mind  is  used  to  feed  emotions  which  it 
should  set  aside  or  control.  Her  will-power  is  less 
than  that  which  is  normal  to  a  woman  as  able  as 
Sibyl ;  I  mean  it  is  so  just  now  ;  but  much  of  her 
present  state  depends  on  her  health." 

"Her  health?"  Clayborne  was  always  surprised 
when  any  one  he  knew  became  ill. 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  "  Cannot  you  see  that  she  is  grow 
ing  gradually  paler?  I  do  not  like  her  condition. 
She  must  give  up  all  your  work  and  be  idle  for  a 
while ;  and  as  for  other  matters,  I  will  see  to  them." 

"I  wish  you  would  see  her  now,"  he  returned 
hastily.  "  She  is  lying  down  in  her  room.  Of  late 
she  always  does  lie  down  before  dinner." 

I  said,  "Very  good,"  and  we  went  to  the  house. 
On  my  knocking  and  naming  myself,  she  said, 
"  Come  in."  She  was  now  one  of  the  household,  and 
had  two  apartments.  One  was  a  small  sitting-room, 
with  many  books,  a  bird-cage,  and  a  piano.  Here  I 
found  her  lying  on  a  lounge.  In  the  bow-window 
overlooking  the  garden  stood  the  pedestal.  It  was 
covered  by  a  piece  of  some  stuff,  and  was  really  con 
cealed  except  for  a  white  corner,  which  caught  my 
eye  and  told  me  at  once  what  it  was.  It  has  been 
said  that  the  physician  should  see,  hear,  hide,  and 
bide.  The  art  of  observing  and  not  attracting  the  at 
tention  of  the  observed  is  a  fine  art.  There  are  men 
who  see  things,  but  are  as  obviously  observant  as 
Paul  Pry.  When,  my  talk  being  over,  I  rose,  Sibyl 
said  to  me :  "  I  will  do  as  you  say.  I  see  the  need 


260  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

for  rest  and  care.  But  there  is  still  a  thing  which 
disturbs  me  more  than  all  my  weakness.  It  is  that 
at  times  I  find  I  have  forgotten  the  having  done 
something,  which  later  I  perceive  to  have  been  done— 
I  mean,  of  course,  by  me." 

"As  what?"  I  asked. 

"Yesterday  I  made  a  pen- wiper.  Since  making  it  I 
have  written  no  letters.  To-day  it  is  blackened.  I 
must  have  used  it ;  no  one  else  could  have  done  so. 
Last  week  I  twice  answered  a  dinner  invitation  for 
Mr.  Clayborne.  I  recall  having  done  so  but  once." 

I  reassured  her,  and  told  her  that,  as  is  common, 
memory  suffers  loss  of  competency  when  the  bodily 
health  is  impaired. 

"  That  is  very  consoling,"  she  said  •  "and  now  please 
to  go.  I  must  dress  for  dinner.  I  shall  be  down 
presently.  Mr.  St.  Clair  is  in  town." 

"Yes,  he  is.     But  how  did  you  hear  of  it?" 

"  Some  one  must  have  told  me." 

"But  who,  Sibyl?" 

"  I  do  not  remember." 

"  He  has  been  in  town  for  some  days,"  said  I.  "  But 
you  know  that  he  might  have  been  there  longer,  and 
no  one  the  wiser.  Mr.  Le  Clerc  told  me  he  had  met 
him.  I,  at  least,  supposed  him  still  absent.  Imagine 
a  friend  who,  after  being  absent  for  months,  can,  on 
his  return,  stay  away  from  you  as  he  does." 

"  He  is  in  the  house  now." 

"  Indeed  !  That  may  be,"  and  so  saying  I  went  away. 

As  I  set  foot  in  the  hall,  St.  Clair  welcomed  me 
joyously. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ? "  I  said. 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  261 

"  I  knew  you  would  scold.  I  have  never  left  the 
studio  for  a  week.  I  saw  in  Wyoming— 

"  A  woman  ? " 

"  No,  no.  A  king  grizzly,  the  grandfather  of  Xerxes. 
I  had  to  model  him  as  soon  as  I  came  home.  How  is 
everybody  ? " 

Had  Sibyl  heard  his  voice,  consciously  heard  it,  or 
had  she  unconsciously  heard  it?  Hysterical  women 
have  in  rare  cases  abnormal  acuteness  of  hearing. 

"And  who  have  you  to  dine?"  I  said  to  our  host, 
dismissing  the  question  for  a  time. 

"  Oh,  our  usual  party  j  Randolph,  too,  and  Thorn- 
hill." 

"What!  the  novelist?  That  is  charming  of  you.  I 
have  no  end  of  questions  to  ask  him." 

"He  is  in  the  city  to  make  some  studies  for  that 
absurdity,  an  historical  novel.  Your  questions  will 
have  to  be  few,  because  Le  Clerc  has  arranged  to  have 
Weevils,  the  thing  they  call  a  medium,  here  at  ten." 

As  he  spoke,  Thornhill  arrived,  and  began  to  chat 
with  Mrs.  Vincent. 

St.  Glair,  overhearing  us,  asked :  "  Who  is  Weevils, 
Clayborne  ? " 

"A  medium,"  returned  Clayborne.  "Le  Clerc  was 
to  have  dined  with  us." 

"  So  he  told  me,  two  days  ago.   He  has  fallen  out  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  our  host;  "I  am  sorry.  I  protested  a 
little  about  this  nonsense,  but  Vincent,  who  loathes 
it  as  I  do,  asked  me  to  have  the  fellow  here  rather 
than  for  us  to  see  him  elsewhere.  Of  course  I  said 
yes.  If  Mrs.  Vincent  wants  that,  or  anything,  I  re 
main  pleased." 

18 


262  BE.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS 

"  Jolly  name,  Weevils,"  said  St.  Clair,  as  Clayborne 
gave  his  arm  to  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  Raps  or  voice  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Voice,"  said  Clayborne. 

"  Randolph,"  said  I,  "  have  you  any  belief  in  this 
stuff?" 

"  How  can  you  ask  me  ?  It  is  a  tangle  of  fraud, 
delusion,  and  self-deceit." 

I  was  glad  that  my  wife  was  absent.  She  has  a  mild 
tendency  to  coquet  with  the  mystical.  I  saw  pass 
over  Vincent's  sensitive  face  a  shadow-like  cloud  of 
annoyance  when  Clayborne  mentioned  Weevils.  But 
he  was  very  gentle  as  to  Anne  Vincent's  follies. 
They  were  rare  and  of  brief  duration. 

As  we  took  our  seats,  I  said :  "  Watkins,  the  mathe 
matician,  was  carried  away  by  these  fools." 

"  And  yet  there  are  few  more  able  men,"  remarked 
Randolph ;  "  but  a  man  may  possess  such  an  intellect 
as  to  give  him  success  in  physics,  or  chemistry,  or 
law,  and  yet  be  curiously  incapable  of  dealing  with  the 
vague,  the  incomplete,  with  apparent  facts  which  can 
not  be  analytically  questioned,  facts  which  cannot  be 
conditioned  and  thus  cross-examined.  In  the  physi 
cal  world  we  do  not  have  these  difficulties." 

"  I  have  been,"  said  I,  "  through  a  multitude  of 
these  experiences  and  have  come  out  of  all  with  dis 
gust  and  disbelief.  But  I  have  still  an  open  mind." 
Here,  turning  to  Vincent,  I  said  that  I  would  send 
Mrs.  Vincent  the  report  of  the  Seybert  Commission 
on  so-called  spiritualism.  I  had  promised  to  do  so 
and  quite  forgotten  it.  Vincent  nodded  to  me  ap 
provingly. 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  263 

"It  is  full  of  nourishment  for  laughter/'  said  St. 
Clair.  "  Read  the  story  of  the  skull." 

"The  skull?"  said  Thornhill. 

"  Yes/'  I  said.  "  I  gave  to  my  friend  H F , 

the  Shakespeare  scholar,  the  skull  used  as  Yorick's  by 
all  the  great  actors  who  have  happened  to  play  here 
the  part  of  Hamlet.  It  is  covered  with  their  auto 
graphs.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  negro  man's  cranium.  We 
asked  by  letter  three  mediums  to  communicate  with 
the  spirit  owner  of  the  skull.  According  to  one,  it 
proved  to  be  a  French  lady,  if  I  remember  correctly, 
of  light  character,  and  who  else  I  forget.  It  was 
immense  fun,  I  assure  you.  I  will  not  ruin  the 
character  of  a  good  story  by  telling  it  too  briefly. 
Read  it." 

"  But,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  do  not  many  honest 
believers  in  this  spirit  business  admit  that  it  is  often 
fraudulently  used  ? " 

"  Yes.  But  read  this  report  and  remember  that 
here  were  a  number  of  unusually  competent  men  for 
years  investigating  these  matters,  and  unable  at  last 
to  say  they  had  seen  anything  inexplicable  to  them  or 
which  the  conjurer  could  not  repeat.  Meanwhile,  as 
a  physician,  I  should  say  that  I  have  seen  this  folly 
give  rise  to  ruin  of  households  and  to  some  insanity." 

"  So  may  religion,"  said  Thornhill. 

"  But  the  one  is  needed,  the  other  is  useless ;  and 
really  I  have  seen  so  many  clever  men  taken  in  that 
I  begin  to  believe  few  are  so  prepared  as  to  be  com 
petent  students  of  a  subject  as  elusively  difficult  as 
this.  I  saw  one  of  the  greatest  of  my  profession  in 
Europe  completely  deluded  by  an  hysterical  girl.  I 


264  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

showed  him  how  it  was  done,  and  he  was  simply 
annoyed,  and  by  no  means  grateful." 

With  this  the  talk  ceased  to  be  generally  heard, 
and  St.  Glair,  beside  me,  said  :  "  Vincent  does  not  like 
this  medium  business." 

"No.  He  has  with  difficulty  kept  Mrs.  Vincent 
out  of  it.  Le  Clerc  is,  of  course,  ignorant  of  this. 
Clayborne  ought  to  have  seen  that  Miss  Maywood  is 
of  all  persons  most  unfit  to  subject  to  the  emotions 
these  people  may  stir  up." 

"  It  is  too  late  to  do  anything  now,"  said  St.  Clair. 

"  It  cannot  be  stopped,  but  we  must  only  see  that 
it  does  not  go  too  far.  I  have  had  a  heavy  dose  of  it 
and  know  well  how  mischievous  it  may  be.  I  shall 
call  up  Faraday  and  question  him  on  electricity,  or 
invite  the  spirit  of  Beethoven  to  beat  musical  time 
to  some  one  playing  his  sonatas." 

St.  Clair  was  silent  for  a  time.  At  last  he  said : 
"  That  may  answer.  I  must  leave  at  nine.  I  have 
to  meet  Winstone  at  the  club  about  his  child's  bas- 
relief.  I  shall  miss  your  medium.  I  am  very  sorry." 

Meanwhile  Randolph  was  talking  to  Sibyl  and 
Mrs.  Vincent,  and  as  it  was  plainly  about  this  same 
matter,  I  broke  up  the  talk  by  a  question  to  Thornhill 
across  the  table.  His  reply  was  too  interesting  not  to 
attract  attention. 

I  said :  "  I  have  long  desired  to  ask  you  something 
about  the  historical  novel.  How  do  you  approach  it  ? " 

"  To  answer  you  I  should  have  to  lecture." 

"  Why  not?  "  said  Clayborne. 

"  Well,  do  not  let  me  bore  you.  Suppose  I  have  a 
story  to  tell  and  wish  to  evolve  character  amid  the 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  265 

scenery  and  events  of  an  historical  episode.  Suppose, 
for  instance,  the  story  to  lie  largely  in  a  great  city. 
For  years  I  must  study  the  topography,  dress,  man 
ners,  and  family  histories ;  must  be  able  in  mind  to 
visit  this  or  that  house ;  know  where  to  call,  whom  I 
shall  see,  the  hours  of  meals,  the  diet,  games,  etc. 
I  must  know  what  people  say  on  meeting  and  part 
ing.  Then  I  must  read  letters,  diaries,  and  so  on,  to 
get  the  speech  forms  and  to  enable  me,  if  it  be  auto 
biography,  to  command  the  written  style  of  the  day. 
Most  men  who  write  thus  of  another  time  try  to  give 
the  eifect  of  actuality  by  an  excessive  use  of  archaic 
forms.  Only  enough  should  be  used  to  keep  from 
time  to  time  some  touch  of  this  past,  and  not  so 
much  as  to  distract  incessantly  by  needless  reminders. 
It  is  an  art,  and,  like  all  good  art  effects,  it  escapes 
complete  analysis. 

"  Then,  as  to  the  use  of  historical  characters. 
These  must  naturally  influence  the  fate  of  your  pup 
pets;  they  must  never  be  themselves  the  most 
prominent  personages  of  your  story." 

"  And  where/7  said  I,  "  do  you  get  your  charac 
ters?" 

"It  is  hard  to  answer.  Usually  some  person  I 
know  is  in  my  mind;  although  this  ideal  becomes 
modified  in  actual  use,  or  else  my  character  may  be 
unlike  any  one  I  can  recall ;  but  often,  later,  I  come 
upon  a  person  like  it.  Character  is  best  deline 
ated  by  occasional  broad  touches,  without  much 
explanatory  comment,  without  excess  of  minute  de 
scription.  If  I  fail  to  characterize  I  fail  in  novel- 
writing.  It  is  the  main  thing  j  the  rest  is  secondary/1 


266  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

Said  Mrs.  Vincent:  "One  thing  puzzles  me.  In 
some  few  novels  people  seem  alive.  Not  only  are 
their  actions  natural,  their  words  such  as  are  used  in 
actual  life,  but  they  become  well  known  to  us.  We 
might  meet  them  and,  to  put  it  strongly,  see  them 
without  astonishment,  and  find  natural  and  familiar 
their  talk  of  this  or  that." 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  highest  attainment  of  our  art. 
How  it  is  done  I  cannot  tell  you.  If  I  doubt  that  a 
conversation  is  what  I  call  l  alive/  I  read  it  aloud  j 
then  I  know.  Or  if  still  in  doubt,  I  have  it  read  to 
me.  That  is  better.  Nor  can  I  tell  why  some  men 
cannot  create  gentlefolk.  It  is  not  knowledge,  nor 
is  it  the  being  in  or  of  their  world  that  gives  this 
power.  Thackeray  had  it ;  so  had  Trollope  ;  Dickens 
never  j  nor,  to  my  mind,  was  George  Eliot  always 
happy  in  this  respect  j  and  of  the  living  I  shall  say 
nothing." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Vincent,  "  in  our  daily  intercourse 
what  is  more  easy  than  this— may  we  call  it  diagnosis, 
Owen?" 

"But  that  is  not  description,"  said  the  novelist. 
"  You  would  find  that  more  difficult." 

"  My  favorite  novels,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  are  for 
ever  injured  by  illustrations.  I  fall  a  prey  to  the 
artist's  crude  conceptions.  When  I  recall  the  char 
acters  I  see  them  as  drawn,  not  as  written." 

"  True,  too  true,"  said  St.  Clair.  «  We  talked  about 
that,  or  was  it  with  Mrs.  North  ?  How  do  you  ex 
plain  it?" 

"  Is  it,"  said  I,  "  because  what  we  see  is  better 
remembered  and  recalled  than  is  the  complex  ideali- 


DR.   NORTH   AND    HIS   FRIENDS  267 

zation  or  the  mere  description  of  personal  appear 
ance  ? " 

"  It  is  so,"  said  Thornhili.  "  If  the  artist's  pictures 
do  not  assist  you  to  see  the  writer's  people  as  he 
conceived  them,  they  do  not  illustrate.  I  never  yet 
knew  an  artist  who  read  with  sufficient  care  the 
thing  he  was  to  help  us  to  see." 

"  You  have  been  very  interesting,"  said  Mrs.  Vin 
cent. 

Sibyl,  who  had  been  silently  listening,  said :  "  I 
should  like  to  give  an  artist  the  outline  of  a  story 
and  let  him  try  to  tell  it  only  by  pictures." 

"  The  man  does  not  live  who  could  do  it,"  said 
St.  Clair. 

Said  Vincent :  "I  am  still  dissatisfied  as  to  one 
of  your  answers.  Do  you  content  yourself  with  the 
common  experiences  of  life,  or  do  you  go  afield  in 
search  of  incidents  ?  " 

"  The  newspapers  help  me,  and  I  am  apt  to  wander 
in  the  slums  and  to  talk  in  trains  with  working-people. 
I  remember  one  curious  experience,  but"— and  he 
paused—"  it  is  too  long,  and  I  have  had  the  floor  all 
through  dinner." 

"  We  can  stand  more,"  said  Clayborne, "  and  mean 
while  I  can  contribute  a  pretty  little  fact  which  fell 
in  my  way  in  Spain.  We  were  looking  at  the  porches 
of  that  dismal  palace,  the  Escorial.  The  guide 
pointed  out  a  vast  picture  of  Lepanto.  Here  were 
Don  John  and  this  and  that  grandee.  I  asked  where 
was  Don  Cervantes.  He  said  he  was  not  there,  and 
that  he,  the  guide,  had  never  heard  of  him.  I  had 
the  wit  to  ask  if  Don  Quixote  were  there.  To  this 


268  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

he  said  most  likely  he  was,  but  that  he  had  not 
been  long  a  guide.  He  would  ask  which  was  Don 
Quixote." 

"  Then,"  said  Thornhill,  "  the  author  was  dead,  so 
to  speak  •  the  creation  of  his  brain  lived  on." 

As  Thornhill  concluded  Clayborne  rose  and  said  : 

"  Let  us  have  our  tobacco  in  the  library.  We  can 
hear  the  rest  there." 

We  followed  him,  and  St.  Clair  excused  himself  and 
left  us.  When  we  were  seated  in  the  library,  Thorn- 
hill,  being  reminded  of  his  promise,  went  on  :  "I  was, 
many  years  ago,  walking  down  the  Bowery  one  after 
noon,  when  I  saw  on  a  door  t  Professor  of  Tattooing. 
Tattooing  in  all  Colors.  Oriental  and  Indian  Styles. 
Third  Floor/  This  so  attracted  me  that  I  went  up 
stairs  and  knocked  at  the  door  on  which  I  found  the 
professor's  name.  It  was  opened  by  a  small,  fat 
Hindoo.  He  was  clad  in  white,  spotless  linen.  He 
was  of  a  beauty  I  may  fitly  call  singular.  The  skin 
was  a  clear  brown,  his  eyes  large  and  like  great 
garnets,  his  mouth  and  nose  of  faultless  form,  and 
the  dominant  expression  watchful  and  sensual.  He 
spoke  very  fair  English,  and  had  the  sleek,  soft  man 
ner  of  the  Orient.  I  said  I  came  to  talk  business, 
and  that,  having  been  in  India,  I  was  interested  to 
find  that  he  was  a  native  of  the  East.  i  Might  I  ask,' 
said  I,  '  where  the  professor  was  born  ? '  '  In  Cawn- 
pore.'  Then  he  added  quietly,  l  You  are  not  Eng 
lish?'  'No;  American.  Why  do  you  ask?'  'Be 
cause  my  father  was  degraded  by  being  made  to  lick 
the  floor  where  blood  was,  and  then  hanged.  It  was 
at  Cawnpore  in  what  they  call  the  mutiny.'  I  said  it 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  269 

was  sad,  and  felt  no  doubt  that  the  father  of  this  fat 
fellow  well  deserved  his  fate.  i  You  can  tattoo  ? '  I 
asked.  'Yes.  Look.'  And  he  showed  me  two  fat 
arms  which  were  wonderfully  covered  with  strange 
devices,  not  all  of  them  such  as  my  taste  approved. 
1  Will  the  sahib  see  my  book  ? '  I  saw  his  book.  I 
prefer  not  to  say  more.  'Ha!  You  do  not  want 
these.  They  please  you  not.'  I  said  that  was  of  no 
moment.  l  Let  us  get  to  business.'  Just  then,  as  we 
were  seated,  one  of  his  fat  and  very  clean  hands 
rested  on  the  table.  With  the  other  he  patted  it  and 
smoothed  it  as  one  does  a  pet  cat  5  meanwhile  he 
looked  at  me  steadily.  I  said,  t  Why  do  you  do  that  ? ' 
It  got  on  to  my  nerves,  as  people  say,  and  as  no  doubt 
it  was  meant  to  do.  He  smiled  the  slow  smile  of  the 
fat  of  face,  in  whom  the  mirth-signal  is  difficult  of 
display.  I  began  to  see  that  I  was  meant  to  be  im 
pressed,  for  he  was  long  in  answering.  '  That  is  my 
evil  hand,'  he  said.  '  The  bad  thought  goes  there.  I 
trust  it  not.  With  that  hand  I  strike  j  with  this  I  give 
alms.'  l  Nonsense/  I  said.  l  When  I  strike  I  do  not 
talk.'  'Nor  I,  sahib,  when  I  strike.  It  is  business. 
And  what,'  said  he,  '  can  I  do  for  you  ? '  I  replied : 
1  Suppose  I  want  you  to  tattoo  initials  and  a  date  on 
a  child?'  'Good.  But  why?'  < Oh,  the  child  may  be 
lost,  and  it  may  be  desirable  years  hence  to  identify 
it.'  '  For  ornament,'  he  said,  1 1  have  my  terms ;  for 
other  affairs — well,  special  terms.  I  must  have  one 
hundred  dollars.'  l  Good,'  said  I.  '  Shall  I  bring  the 
child  here  to-night  ? '  '  Yes,  at  nine.'  Now,  as  I  had 
only  begun  my  researches,  I  desired  to  hear  more  of 
my  man.  I  said  :  '  Here  are  ten  dollars.'  He  replied : 


270  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

'The  sahib  is  generous  and  honored.'  He  no  doubt 
meant  honorable.  l  You  must  have  had  some  inter 
esting  experiences ? '  'Yes.  I  learned  to  tattoo  in 
Japan.  There  it  is  an  art.'  1 1  do  not  mean  to  dis 
cuss  the  art/  I  returned.  '  I  am  curious,  that  is  all. 
If  I  commit  myself,  as  I  may  do  to-night,  I  shall  want 
to  feel  sure.  You  must  have  had  some  queer  adven 
tures—in  your  business,  I  mean.7  'Oh,  many,  many 
adventure/  and  again  the  lazy  smile  crawled  about 
his  face.  l  Such  as  I '  said  I.  l  Oh,  when  your  great 
war  broke  out  many  men  came  to  have  names  and 
company  and  regiment  and  where  they  lived  tattooed 
on  their  arms.  It  was  good  business.  To  some  it 
was  of  use,  I  did  hear.'  l  Do  the  police  trouble  you  ? ' 
'  No ;  why  should  they  ?  I  am  careful.  Once  a  man 
would  have  me  tattoo  him,  and  he  would  bring 
another,  and  would  I  mix  what  he  would  give  me 
with  my  pigments?  He  would  pay  five  hundred 
dollars.  I  said  yes,  but  I  only  made  believe  to  use  it, 
and  that  man  he  came  nevermore,  but  his  five  hun 
dred  dollars,  it. remains.  I  tattoo  then  my  neighbor's 
cat  with  his  stuff,  and  that  cat  no  more  disturbs  my 
rest.  Once  I  have  a  trouble,  not  much.  A  man  he 
paid  me  to  go  to  a  house  to  tattoo.  There  was  a  fine 
room  and  a  woman  asleep,  she  and  a  baby  of  a  year. 
I  saw  no  servant,  although  the  house  was  great ;  and 
there  were  pictures  and  rugs,  fine  rugs.  I  know 
about  rugs.  It  was  twelve  of  night.  When  I  saw 
the  woman  she  was  in  bed  asleep,  and  the  child.  I 
lift  her  lid  and  see.  Then  I  say  to  that  man,  "  She 
has  taken  of  opium."  I  take  it  myself  and  I  know. 
He  say,  "  Yes.  She  will  not  feel  till  morning."  When 


DR.   NORTH  AND   HIS  FRIENDS  271 

I  was  come  to  this  I  say,  "  Too  cheap "  j  and  he,  he 
say,  "  Here  will  be  double."  I  did  not  like  it,  but  I 
used  my  left  hand  only.  Ha !  it  was  a  small  thing 
I  did  it  and  came  away.  Next  day  I  see  in  the 
paper  that  the  man  of  that  house  shoot  himself,  and 
the  woman,  his  wife,  have  disappeared,  child  and  all. 
I  was  seen  to  come  out  alone,  and  there  was  some 
talk  of  murder.  But  it  was  foolish,  and  soon  I 
was  let  go.  What  crime  to  tattoo  a  lady  ?  No  one 
knew,  and  the  man  was  dead.  I  tattoo  manjr  lady.' 
'But,  professor,  what  did  you  tattoo  on  them?7" 
Here  Thornhill  hesitated  a  moment  and  seemed  a 
little  confused.  Then  he  added:  "What  the  man 
wanted  put  on  the  mother  was  an  X  on  the  forehead, 
and  on  the  child  a  Y.  <  Very  stupid/  said  my  Hindoo. 
'  What  it  did  mean  I  know  not.'  I  said  nothing  ex 
cept  that  it  was  a  queer  story,  and  was  it  at  nine  I 
was  to  bring  the  baby  ?  l  At  nine,  sahib.7  Then  I  came 
away,  sorry  not  to  have  a  longer  talk  with  this  rascal.77 

Chancing  to  meet  the  novelist  a  few  days  later,  I 
said :  "  You  puzzled  me  about  those  letters,  X  and  Y, 
which  your  Hindoo  tattooed  on  mother  and  child.  I 
cannot  see  any  meaning  in  it^77 

"  Ah,"  he  replied,  laughing,  "  I  began  to  tell  a  story, 
as  one  sometimes  does,  unmindful  that  the  closing 
part  might  not  be  altogether— well,  suitable.  The 
real  ending  of  the  story  was  different,  but,  suddenly 
remembering  Miss  Maywood7s  presence,  I  changed 
the  letters.  What  the  rascal  put  on  the  mother  was 
A,  on  the  child  B.77 

"  I  see,  of  course.  How  atrocious  !  What  strange 
ingenuity  of  revenge  ! 77 


272  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

When  Thornliill  ceased  we  began  to  make  com 
ments. 

"An  X  and  a  Y/'  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "What  a 
singular  tale ! " 

"  Yes.     Is  n't  it  a  strange  story  ? "  said  Sibyl. 

"  Oddly  enough,  I  can  continue  the  tale/'  said  I. 
"  A  brother  M.D.,  a  surgeon  who  has  not  our  ideas  as 
to  the  impropriety  of  mentioning  facts  as  to  patients, 
once  told  me  that  he  had  long  ago  removed  letters 
tattooed  on  a  woman  and  child.  He  refused  to  say 
what  letters,  but  these  must  have  been  your  Hindoo's 
patients.  "What  a  remarkable  coincidence  that  we 
two,  who  alone  know  the  two  ends  of  this  story, 
should  chance  to  meet !  " 

"  Suppose,"  said  Vincent,  "  the  lady  to  have  been  a 
woman  of  our  class,— and,  God  knows,  she  may  well 
have  been,— and  have  happened  to  dine  here  to 
night." 

"Yes,  it  might  have  been/'  said  I.  "It  reminds 
me  of  something  as  serious.  Major  P —  -  was  in 
charge  during  the  war  of  the  spy  department  of  the 
army.  He  had  twice  occasion  to  meet  a  woman  who  was 
in  our  pay  and  who  was  in  one  of  the  Confederate  de 
partments  as  a  clerk,  and  known  by  name  to  him 
alone.  Years  after  he  arrived  late  at  a  dinner  in  New 
port,  and  hastily  offered  his  arm  to  the  woman  as 
signed  to  him.  It  was  the  spy.  She  grew  pale.  He 
whispered:  'Take  care.  You  are  safe.'  You  may 
imagine  them  to  have  had  an  agreeable  meal.  She 
was  a  woman  of  the  highest  social  class,  and,  as  I 
said,  employed  during  the  war  in  one  of  the  Rebel 
departments." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  273 

Said  Vincent :  "  I  can  contribute  a  pleasanter  coin 
cidence.  I  was  one  day  talking  at  lunch  to  my  wife 
of  parodies.  I  said :  1 1  have  lost  my  copy  of  "  Milk- 
anwatha," '  the  finest  of  all  parodies.  At  least,  so  said 

our  friend  Mrs.  K .  It  was  out  of  print.  I  added : 

'If  ever  I  see  the  Reverend  George  Strong,  who 
wrote  it,  I  shall  ask  for  a  copy.  I  have  not  seen  him 
in  seven  years.'  At  this  moment  the  servant  brought 
me  a  card.  It  was  that  of  the  author  of  'Milk- 
anwatha.' " 

"And  did  you  get  a  copy?"  said  Sibyl.  "May  I 
not  see  it  ? " 

"  I  did  get  it,  and  you  shall  see  it,"  said  I. 

At  this  moment  came  the  butler.  "  Mr.  Weevils  is 
in  the  drawing-room,  sir.  The  windows  is  all  shut, 
and  the  curtains  over  the  doors,  accordin'  as  ordered, 
sir." 

"  Now,"  said  our  host,  "  we  are  to  enter  without 
noise,  and  find  our  ways  to  the  table  as  we  can.  His 
letter  was  very  exact.  I  have  agreed  to  all  the  fel 
low's  terms.  Once  seated,  he  will  direct  us  what  to 
do." 

"How  delightful!"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "Come, 
Sibyl,  we  must  sit  together.  I  wish  St.  Clair  were 
here." 

We  were  about  to  encounter  something  confidently 
asserted  to  be  outside  of  the  boundaries  of  our  every 
day  experiences.  For  once  we  were  to  pass  the  limits 
of  common  human  knowledge  and  hear  voices  or 
sounds  from  the  unseen  world.  I  had  been  through 
it  many  times,  but  always  with  a  little  anticipative 
sense  of  what  it  were  misuse  of  the  word  to  call  awe. 


274  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

It  was  now  plainly  discernible  on  the  faces  of  the 
people  who  followed  Mrs.  Vincent  and  Sibyl  as  they 
passed  out  of  the  lighted  hall  through  the  curtained 
doorway  into  entire  darkness,  there  to  find,  as  they 
might,  seats  around  a  large  table.  I  groped  about, 
and  at  last  discovered  myself  to  be  next  to  Sibyl. 
Who  were  next  to  the  medium,  Mr.  Weevils,  I  do  not 
remember,  although  we  talked  it  all  over  the  week 
after.  I  think  he  sat  at  one  end  of  the  table,  with  no 
one  very  close  to  him.  We  were  in  perfect  darkness. 
We  remained  thus  at  least  five  minutes.  Then  we 
were  told  by  a  voice,  low  and  rather  feminine,  to 
grasp  the  hands  of  our  neighbors.  I  found  Sibyl's 
and  Vincent's.  Who,  if  any,  touched  those  of  the 
medium  I  do  not  know.  The  gloom,  the  silence,  the 
attention,  expectant  of  none  knew  what,  were  admi 
rable  preparations  for  an  introduction  to  the  citizens 
of  another  sphere  of  being.  I  was  speculating  as  to 
what  Mr.  Weevils  might  look  like,  when  I  heard  the 
most  singular  voice.  It  was  small,  thin,  and  hesita 
tive,  with  something  of  the  quality  of  a  child's  voice. 
It  said:  "The  conditions  are  good  to-night.  We 
shall  be  favored,  I  am  sure.  Ah,  I  am  feeling  it.  Do 
not  be  alarmed.  I  may  suffer.  I  may  become  rigid. 
Do  not  move.  It  will  go.  It  will  pass.  And  then 
our  friends  will  be  with  us."  With  this  the  table 
shook,  we  heard  groans,  and  at  last  a  long  sigh.  "  It 
is  over.  She  is  here.  What  will  you  of  her  ?  Speak." 

Those  present  were  plainly  not  prepared  with  in 
terrogative  wisdom.  There  was  silence.  At  last  I 
said :  "  Who  are  you  ?  " 

After  a  pause  I  was  answered  by  a  high-pitched 


DR.  NORTH   AND   HIS   FRIENDS  275 

female  voice  distinctly  of  Boston,  and  clearly  that  of 
a  woman.  I  should  have  judged  her  to  be  past  mid 
dle  life.  Weevils  was  evidently  a  first-rate  artist. 
The  voice  said :  "  I  am  Euphemia  Briars.  My  friends 
call  me  Phemie.  What  is  it  you  want  ? " 

I  said:  "My  friend  Mr.  Clayborne  is  writing  a 
commentary  on  Kant.  Is  Kant  here  ? " 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  and  then :  "  He  is  here. 
What  do  you  want  ?  He  is  difficult.  He  is  a  nega 
tive  spirit." 

"Naturally/7  murmured  Vincent. 

"Herr  Kant,"  said  Clayborne,  "is  consciousness  a 
unit  or  is  it  ever  doubled ! " 

Said  the  voice :  "  Personal  consciousness  is  a  fraction 
of  the  perceptivity  of  the  world-soul." 

"  By  George  !  "  exclaimed  Clayborne,  while  Sibyl 
shook  with  irreverent  mirth. 

"Would  Herr  Kant  kindly  explain,"  said  Clay- 
borne,  "  what  is  consciousness  f " 

A  brief  pause  followed,  and  then :  "  Consciousness 
is  the  interpreter  of  the  objective  to  the  subjective. 
It  is  the  eye  and  ear  of  the  ego." 

"  It  must  have  long  ears,"  growled  Clayborne,  "  or 
at  least  Kant  has.  That  is  enough  for  me." 

Said  Randolph:  "Herr  Kant,  is  the  devil  a  pes 
simist  ? " 

"There  are  many  devils.  They  are  all  naturally 
optimists  by  desire  and  pessimists  by  experience,  but 
their  theory  as  to  the  desirable  is  not  yours,  for  how 
can  those  who  are  at  the  worst  be  pessimists  ?  " 

I  began  to  perceive  that  we  had  to  deal  with  a 
somewhat  unusual  performer.  Then  I  heard  Sibyl 


276  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

say,  in  her  low,  clear  tones:  "You  know  botli 
worlds,  Herr  Kant.  Is  it  worth  while  in  this  sphere 
to  struggle  with  one's  temptations  ? " 

I  was  a  little  surprised  at  the  question,  but  no  one 
could  anticipate  what  Sibyl  might  say. 

The  voice  changed  and  became  stern.  "  Make  thy 
self  strong  against  temptations  in  thy  own  world,  that 
thou  mayest  be  strong  to  resist  those  of  this  other 
world,  for  here  the  angels  also  are  tempted,  and  for 
ever  and  ever  rise  on  strengthened  wings  through 
eternities  of  struggle.  For  that  thou  art  here." 

"  I  am  answered,"  said  Sibyl,  and,  in  my  ear :  "  I 
was  answered  beforehand." 

After  this  there  was  a  long  silence.  Then  I  asked : 
"Why  do  we  never  hear  any  novel  idea  from  the 
spirit  world  f " 

"  Because,"  said  an  odd  falsetto  voice,  "  we  are  in 
eternity.  Novelty  involves  the  time  relation,  and 
therefore  cannot  exist  here." 

"  It  must  be  dull,"  murmured  Sibyl,  as  a  squeaky 
voice  was  heard  in  very  good  German,  which  I 
translate : 

"  Is  Herr  von  Clayborne  here  ?  " 

"  He  is,"  said  our  host.  "  The  more  fool  he.  Who 
are  you?" 

"  I  am  Hegel.  Why  do  you  write  foolish  books  as 
to  the  sects  of  the  Mohammedans?  You  know  no 
thing.  Herr  Schweinhausen  is  right." 

This  was  more  than  we  could  stand.  A  titter  went 
round  in  the  gloom  as  I  translated  for  Sibyl. 

Clayborne  said :  "  What  idiotic  nonsense  !  We  have 
had  enough  of  it" 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  277 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent ;  "  not  yet.  Will  the 
spirit  of  the  first  lady  we  interviewed  tell  me  what  is 
considered  in  the  other  world  the  true  religion  ?  " 

The  high-pitched  voice  replied :  "  We  had  thirty- 
seven  new  religions  when  I  left  Boston,  and  several 
fractional  ones  coming  on.  In  this  other  world  are 
no  religions,  but  much  religion.  Herr  Kant  is  angry 
because  he  had  so  brief  an  interview  with  Herr  von 
Clayborne.  He  says  Herr  von  Clayborne's  double  is 
annoyed  at  the  indefiniteness  of  Herr  von  Clayborne's 
mind." 

This  was  charming. 

"  My  double  ?    Indefinite  ?    Good  gracious !  " 

"Yes.  Souls  are  created  double;  one  remains  in 
the  spheres,  one  is  born  to  earth.  When  the  spheral 
spirit  visits  the  earthly  double  he  becomes  what  psy 
chologists  call  the  subliminal  consciousness.  He 
gives  his  earthly  double  gleams  of  celestial  wisdom. 
He  says  Herr  von  Clayborne  should  have  been  a  poet 
—that  he  has  too  much  imagination  for  a  historian." 

"  Delightful !  "  cried  Mrs.  Vincent. 

There  was  noise  of  suppressed  mirth  in  the  dark 
ness. 

"  How  shall  we  know  the  truth  of  all  this  ? " 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  some  of  your  secret  thoughts  ?  n 

"  Well,  why  not?" 

"  You  overdrew  your  bank-account  last  week." 

"  Good  gracious !  I  did." 

"  You  told  a  man  named  Clair,  in  a  letter,  that  he 
was  a  fool.  He  wrote  you  about  some  anonymous 
letters.  You  said,  '  Burn  them.' " 

"  That  will  do,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  rather  faintly. 


278  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  You  are  impertinent.  I  do  not  desire  to  hear  any 
more." 

"  Is  there  a  man  named  Vincent  here— a  little  man 
with  tall  manners  and  an  eye-glass  ? " 

"  Oh,  stuff ! "  said  Vincent,  rising.  I  heard  his 
chair  move  as  he  pushed  it  back.  Clayborne  threw 
open  a  window.  The  medium  was  gone.  He  had 
slipped  out  quietly  and,  as  we  learned,  left  the  house 
unseen  of  any  one. 

We  went  back  to  the  library— Clayborne  growling 
out  anathemas,  Vincent  laughing,  his  wife  silent. 

"  Well,"  said  Randolph,  as  we  sat  down,  "  that  is 
certainly  my  queerest  experience  in  this  line." 

"  You  should  be  satisfied,  Anne,"  said  Vincent. 

"  Not  entirely.  It  is  quite  inexplicable.  I  wanted 
to  ask  him  so  many  more  things." 

"  I  think  this  may  suffice." 

Said  Sibyl :  "  They  do  not  appear  to  have  improved 
upon  us  in  the  world  of  spirits." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Randolph.  "  I  like  what  my  friend 

W said  of  it.  Dr.  Q assured  him  that 

one  of  the  advantages  of  the  spheres  lay  in  the  fact 
that  if  a  spirit  desired  to  indulge  in  naughtiness,  as, 
for  instance,  if  he  inclined  to  get  drunk,  he  had  only 
to  enter  the  soul  of  some  one  on  earth,  possess  that 
man  with  the  appetite  for  whisky,  and  thus  enjoy  the 

consequent  frolic,  and  so  depart.  i  But/  said  W , 

'  my  dear  sir,  you  tell  me  justice  reigns  supreme  in  the 
spirit  world/  l  That  is  true.'  ( Then  is  it  not  sad 
that  the  unlucky  contributor  to  the  happiness  of  his 
temporary  spiritual  lodger  should  be  left  next  morn 
ing  with  a  headache  for  two  ? '  " 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  279 

"  What  said  the  doctor  ? "  I  queried. 

"  Of  course  we  do  not  know  what  the  doctor  said. 
All  the  wit  in  the  world  lacks  sequels." 

"I  hope/'  said  Sibyl,  "my  double  will  always  stay 
away." 

"  Oh,  yes/'  cried  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  To  keep  a  free 
bodily  boarding-house  for  spirits  who  may  make  you 
do  things  which  will  bring  the  police  down  on  you. 
Good  gracious ! " 

"  It  accounts  for  St.  Glair,"  said  I.  "He  may  have 
a  score  of  doubles.  And  did  you  really  overdraw 
your  account  ?  and  did  he  write  you  about  anonymous 
letters  1 " 

"  Yes.  That  does  seem  strange,  because  he  did  not 
wish  me  to  mention  the  letters.  Now,  Fred,  is  it  not 
really  strange  ?  "  she  added,  turning  to  Vincent. 

"  Yes ;  and  unwholesome  and  useless  and  imperti 
nent." 

"  And  wicked,"  said  Sibyl.  "  As  if  nonsense  like 
this  were  needed  to  strengthen  our  belief  in  a  world 
beyond  our  own." 

"  Come,  Anne,"  said  Vincent,  rising.  "  Thank  you, 
Clayborne.  Good  night,  Randolph." 

"  Mr.  Thornhill,"  said  I,  "  you  must  dine  with  us. 
Will  Tuesday  suit  you  ?  Yes  ?  Then  at  eight,  please." 

On  the  day  named  Thornhill  dined  alone  with  us, 
as  I  found  it  impossible  to  gather  at  short  notice  the 
guests  I  desired.  The  talk  ranged  widely,  the  novel 
ist  speaking  with  envy  of  the  physician's  opportunity 
of  seeing  character  as  we  see  it.  I  in  turn  discussed 
the  doctor  and  patient  as  used  in  fiction,  and  amused 
Thornhill  and  my  wife  by  my  critical  comments.  We 


280  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FKIENDS 

united  in  regret  as  to  there  being  so  little  delineation 
of  the  doctor  in  Shakespeare. 

"  And  yet/'  I  said,  "  nothing  in  all  Shakespeare  is 
as  natural  as  the  doctor  in  l  Macbeth.' " 

"Was  the  queen  as  natural?"  said  Thornhill. 

"  We  should  have  asked  Shakespeare  last  week,  at 
the  se*ance." 

We  laughed  heartily  at  the  remembrance. 

"I  was  about  to  add,"  Thornhill  said,  "that  the 
preceding  talk  of  the  doctor,  in  Scene  III,  about  the 
cure  of  scrofula,  seems  to  have  in  it  nothing  relative." 

"No,"  I  said;  "unless  it  were  meant  as  a  mere 
tribute  to  royalty,  I  see  no  reason  for  it.  The  fact 
that  the  queen  was  seen  washing  her  hands  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  at  a  time  is  very  interesting.  Was 
it  in  the  day  that  this  was  to  be  seen,  or  only  at 
night?  If  in  the  day,  it  implies  a  disordered  mind, 
something  more  than— shall  I  say  ?— normal  remorse, 
a  possession  akin  to  insanity.  I  cannot  even  mildly 
match  in  my  professional  memory  the  night- walking 
horror.  I  have  often  meant  to  ask  some  prison 
warden  if  murderers  ever  speak  of  their  crimes  in 
their  sleep,  or  dream  of  them." 

"  What  a  tempting  subject ! "  said  the  novelist.  "  But 
pray  explain  more  fully  what  you  mean  by  the  hand- 
washing  as  the  indication  of  insanity." 

"  I  mean  this.  There  is  a  form  of  mental  disorder 
marked  by  a  never-ending  sense  of  being  unclean. 
If  let  alone,  these  people  bathe  repeatedly  and  wash 
their  hands  many  times  a  day,  and  feel  that  they  are 
continually  being  contaminated.  This  disease  takes 
many  forms  and  is  very  lasting.  I  have  only  spoken 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  281 

of  so  much  of  it  as  has  relation  to  the  case  of  Lady 
Macbeth." 

"  It  is  interesting,"  said  my  wife,  "  I  never  before 
heard  it  mentioned." 

"  But,"  asked  Thornhill,  "  in  the  instances  seen 
by  you  was  there,  as  in  this  example,  a  cause  f  What 
starts  so  strange  a  habit  ? " 

"  We  are  rarely  able  to  trace  it  to  a  distinct  emo 
tion.  Occasionally  some  woman  attributes  the  trou 
ble  to  something  done  or  seen,  which  she  dwells 
upon  until  it  develops  into  what  we  call  the  mania  of 
impurity.  That  is  all  I  can  say  without  talking  too 
much  medicine." 

"  Then  let  us  change  the  subject,"  said  my  wife. 
"  I  want,  Mr.  Thornhill,  to  ask  you  a  rather  personal 
question." 

"  I  am  at  your  service,"  said  the  novelist. 

"I  understand  a  man's  writing  many  books,  but 
not  how  he  comes  to  write  the  first  one— a  novel,  I 
mean." 

"  I  see,"  said  Thornhill.  "  Nowadays  men  usually 
begin  as  writers  of  short  tales.  A  distinct  art,  by  the 
way.  In  older  times  no  one  began  thus." 

"Yes,  Cervantes  did,"  said  I. 

"No;  that  was,  I  think,  after  he  wrote  'Don 
Quixote/  and  very  pretty  those  stories  are.  Scott 
began  with  a  novel,  unless  the  poems  count  as  tales  j 
and  you  know  Dickens." 

"  I  think  you  are  correct  j  but  how  did  you  begin  ? " 

Thornhill  laughed.  "  That  is  a  queer  story.  I  was 
a  reporter  on  the  '  Moon/  a  mild  weekly.  One  day  I 
saw  in  it  an  advertisement :  '  Wanted,  a  plot  for  a 


282  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

novel.'  The  idea  struck  me  as  a  fertile  one.  I  sent 
the  sketch  of  a  plot,  and,  to  my  surprise,  received  ten 
dollars.  Then  I  advertised:  'Plots  furnished  for 
tales  and  novels/  and  gave  as  reference  the  editor. 
What  became  of  my  plots  I  do  not  know.  Not  all 
tales  see  the  light  of  print.  I  made  a  quite  comforta 
ble  addition  to  my  meager  income.  At  last  one  of  my 
clients  wrote  that  she  could  make  plots  easily  enough, 
but  wanted  to  pay  me  liberally  to  take  a  plot  of 
her  own  and  give  a  full  scenario,  as  the  play 
wrights  call  it.  Her  plot  was  good.  I  fell  in  with 
her  wish,  gave  her  characters,  sketched  situations, 
noted  hints  as  to  talk,  and  so  on.  She  returned 
the  manuscript  with  a  very  fair  check,  and  wrote 
frankly  that  she  had  tried  to  make  a  story  and  had 
failed.  I  in  turn  wrote  my  thanks.  There  was  a 
pretty  exchange  of  letters.  She  is  now  Mrs.  Thorn- 
hill,  and  if  you  ever  tell  her— well,  I  will  put  you  in  a 
book.'7 

We  swore  eternal  secrecy.  The  lady  was  an  heiress 
with  literary  aspirations. 

"  Then  you  wrote  a  novel  ? "  said  my  wife. 

"  Yes ;  I  asked  leave  to  use  her  plot,  and  that  was 
the  way  I  began  to  inflict  myself  upon  an  indulgent 
public." 

My  wife  rose.  "I  shall  now  retire  and  write  a 
novel.  I  leave  you  to  your  cigars.  Good  night.  I  am 
sorry  I  cannot  give  you  your  tea  myself.  I  am  going 
to  a  little  dance  at  Mrs.  Vincent's." 


XVII 

|HE  next  morning  I  was  in  my  library, 
when  St.  Clair  entered. 

"Have  you  a  few  minutes  to  spare?" 
he  said. 

This  was  an  unusual  question  for  St. 
Clair  to  ask.  He  hated  to  be  interrupted  in  his  own 
work,  but  as  to  whether  he  disturbed  that  of  others 
he  was  quite  careless. 

"  Of  course.     What  is  it  ?    How  well  you  look !     I 
was  sorry  you  went  away  that  night.     We  had  a 
famous  sitting  with  Weevils.     I  confess  to  having 
been  somewhat  mystified." 
"  Yes.     I  did  it  well,  Owen." 
11  Then  I  saw  it  all.    You  scamp ! " 
"  Yes.   I  chanced  to  hear  of  it  from  Le  Clerc,  and  got 
Weevils's  address  from  him.  I  gave  the  fellow  twenty 
dollars  to  let  me  have  his  cloak  and  hat  and  to  act  in 
his  place.     I  don't  like  other  folks'  hats.     I  got  the 
full  directions,  as  given  beforehand  in  a  note  from 
Weevils  to  Clayborne.     Never  had  such  fun  in  my 
life.     It  will  cure  Anne  Vincent." 
"  Will  you  teU  her!" 

"  Of  course,  and  all  of  them  j  only  let  me  do  it  in 
my  own  way,  Owen,  or  I  shall  catch  it.  You  know 
how  Vincent  abhors  practical  jokes." 

283 


284:  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"I  think  you  had  better  go  to  Kamchatka  and 
write  thence.  You  will  never  be  forgiven." 

"  Yes,  I  shall.  You  have  all  had  so  much  practice 
in  forgiving  me  that  forgiveness  has  acquired  the 
force  of  instinct." 

"  Well,  perhaps.  I  shall  hold  my  tongue.  It  was 
splendidly  done.  What  was  that  about  anonymous 
letters,  may  I  ask  f " 

"I  came  to  speak  to  you  of  them.  Few  things 
trouble  me  j  these  have  done  so.  I  wrote  Mrs.  Vin 
cent  to  that  effect,  but  said  little  more— nothing  of 
their  contents,  nothing  of  moment.  She  told  me  in 
reply  that  I  was  a  fool,  and  to  burn  them.  The  fact 
is,  Owen,  if  it  were  not  for  me  Mrs.  Vincent  would  be 
an  unendurably  amiable  woman.  I  keep  her  temper 
sharpened.  Why  she  did  not  see  through  my  trick  I 
cannot  understand." 

"  Probably  she  was  right  as  to  your  letters,  Victor. 
But  why  were  you  troubled  ?  " 

"  You  will  understand  when  you  have  seen  the  let 
ters.  Read  them.  Let  your  wife  read  them.  There 
they  are.  Then  we  can  talk  it  over." 

With  some  hesitation  I  took  the  letters,  and  when 
St.  Glair  had  gone,  read  them  carefully,  and,  like  St. 
Clair,  but  for  reasons  of  my  own,  was  shocked.  That 
evening  late  I  said  to  my  wife  :  "  Put  aside  your  book 
and  don't  sew.  I  want,  as  you  say,  a  little  undivided 
attention." 

"  Certainly,  Owen ;  nothing  serious,  I  hope." 

"  No  and  yes.  St.  Clair  has  been  receiving,  while 
away,  letters— four  in  all— anonymous.  I  have  them 
here.  He  is  troubled  about  them,  and  has  asked  you 
and  me  to  consider  them." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  285 

"  And  why  ?  Few  things  trouble  him.  I  should 
think  there  was  but  one  course  open— burn  them." 

"  That  is  not  the  question.     It  is  far  more  grave." 

"  If  I  may  go  on  with  my  embroidering,  Owen,  I 
shall  be  far  wiser  counsel.  How  you  men  get  on 
without  using  your  hands  I  cannot  comprehend." 

11  Nor  I.  But  listen.  We  will  talk  over  the  matter 
after  you  have  heard  me  read  the  letters.  They  are 
type- written  and  are  not  signed." 

"  This  sounds  interesting,  Owen.  Now  I  have  my 
work  I  am  ready.  I  suppose  anonymous  letters  are 
always  meant  to  injure  by  false  or  by  true  state 
ments." 

"  No,"  I  replied,  "  not  always.  Thornhill  says  he 
has  had  in  his  life  many  unsigned  letters  about  his 
books,  some  ill-natured,  some  lavish  of  praise. 
These  letters  before  us  leave  the  way  to  detection 
open,  invite  comment  and  reply." 

"  And  why,  then,  in  any  sense  anonymous,  Owen?" 

"  They  are  not  signed." 

"  But,  Owen,  most  of  the  critical  people  who  write 
in  journals  would  be  probably  quite  as  unknown  if 
they  added  real  names  as  if  they  added  none.  As  to 
malicious  letters,  meant  to  make  mischief  and  to  say 
what  the  writer  would  fear  to  say  openly,  that  is 
plain,  or  rather,  I  should  say,  the  motive  of  these  is 
plain,  but  as  to  others — 

"  They  are  often  explicable,"  I  said.  "  Some  mod 
est  woman  is  taken  with  desire  to  criticize  your 
book,  or  to  say  it  had  helped  her,  and  is  ashamed 
to  add  her  name." 

"  Yes,  that  also  I  can  comprehend." 

"Many  others,"  I  went  on  to  say,   "are  produced 


286  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

by  the  craving  for  confession ;  not  that  the  writers 
desire  advice  or  to  find  rest  in  the  decisions  of  experi 
ence,  but  purely  for  the  satisfaction  of  emptying  a 
burdened  mind.  If  you  ask  me  to  explain  why  this 
gives  some  form  of  ease,  I  cannot  answer  you." 

"Wait  a  moment,  Owen."  And  as  she  spoke  she 
went  to  a  bookcase,  and  opening  a  book,  read : 

"  You  say  to  speak,  confess,  let  loose 
To  man  our  hurt,  lacks  reason's  use. 
God  hears;  why  speak?    A  straw  you  toss 
To  one  who  drowns;  yet  from  the  cross 
Fell  on  the  reeling  world  below 
Some  words  of  overmastering  woe." 

"  Yes,  that  was  truly  said,"  I  returned ;  "  but  behind 
this  tendency  to  speak  out,  to  confess,  must  lie  some 
explanatory  group  of  human  instincts.  Its  sternest 
illustration  is  in  the  murderer.  Despite  the  known 
consequences,  and  quite  apart  from  repentant  feel 
ings  or  any  form  of  remorse,  he  is  ceaselessly  urged 
from  within  to  relate  what  he  has  done.  Men  are 
gregarious.  The  common  mind  abhors  solitude.  The 
lonely  horror  of  crime  becomes  unendurable." 

"  But  why  is  there  relief  in  confession,  Owen  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know,  and  yet  I  have  thought  much 
about  it.  Finally,  my  dear,  a  word  about  anony 
mous  love-letters.  The  same  human  instinct  lies 
behind  these,  the  joy  of  confession  without  the  shame. 
1  He  will  see  it,  he  will  read  it,  he  will  never  know, 
he  will  imagine  me  beautiful,  charming,  and,  alas !  I 
am  not!7" 

"  You  are  a  dangerous  man,  Owen." 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  287 

"  This  is  all  obvious,  Alice.  You  and  I  can  readily 
imagine  the  charm  of  such  a  correspondence  in 
which  the  woman  may  never  be  known  by  name, 
never  seen.  i  Let  us  love  one  another  on  paper.  We 
shall  never  meet.'  Such  correspondences  have  been." 

"  I  can  appreciate  their  attractiveness,"  she  said. 
"  One  would  feel  so  free  to  write  one's  thoughts." 

"  I  know  a  case  in  point,"  I  said.  "  A  well-known 
man  received  a  witty  and  very  amusing  anonymous 
letter.  He  replied  as  requested.  The  letters  came 
and  went  for  years.  Often  those  of  the  woman  were 
in  terms  of  warm  affection.  An  accident  revealed 
her  identity.  She  was  a  woman  double  the  man's 
age— in  fact,  an  old  lady.  No  doubt  she  enjoyed 
the  game.  She  never  knew  that  the  man  had 
finally  learned  who  and  what  she  was.  He  ceased  to 
write,  and  was  a  great  deal  disturbed  by  the  anti 
climax." 

"  I  think,"  said  Alice,  "  he  was  properly  punished." 

"  Perhaps  j  but  we  have  wandered  from  the  matter 
in  hand." 

"  No.  You  have  prepared  me  to  be  charitable. 
Let  me  add  that  there  ought  to  be  very  strong  rea 
sons  for  allowing  these  letters  to  be  read  by  you,  by 
us." 

"There  are.  They  have  disturbed  a  man  not 
easily  troubled." 

"  Well,  go  on.  A  type- written  love-letter  seems  to 
me— but  no  matter.  Bead  it  to  me,  please." 

"  '  You  will  be  annoyed  to  receive  this  letter,  and 
yet  who  knows  better  than  you  do  the  charm  of 
addressing  a  man  or  woman  you  will  never  see  on 


288  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

earth  ?  You  will  think  me  immodest  if  I  say,  "  Read 
my  letter,"  and  yet  this  is  practically  what  you  say 
when  you  print  a  poem;  and  you  did  this  for 
years  over  a  name  not  your  own.  Shall  no  one 
assume  a  like  privilege  with  you  ?  When  you  wrote 
your  series  of  love-poems,  they  went  straight  to 
many  hearts ;  and  now  here  is  one  who  ventures  to 
make  reply.  If  I,  who  have  seen  you  and  read  every 
line  you  have  written,  if  I — ah,  do  not  dare  to  smile — 
if  I  love  you,  where  is  the  harm  ?  We  shall  not  ever 
meet.  You  are  a  spirit  to  me,  as  much  outside  my 
world  as  if  you  were  dead.  What,  then,  you  will  ask, 
is  the  good!  For  you,  none.  Be  kind  to  me  in 
thought.  Imagine  me  poor,  lonely,  often  in  the 
society  of  your  best  and  noblest  words.  I  can  bear 
it  no  longer,  and  must  speak  to  you  directly,  as  I  am 
now  doing.  What  good  will  it  do  me  ?  Ah  !  you  a 
poet,  and  know  not  the  joys  of  confession  ?  Consider 
mine  as  though  it  were  the  revelation  of  a  dream ; 
and  thus  without  shame  I  can  say  I  love  you.  I  do 
not  ask  you  to  write  to  me.  In  some  other  world  we 
shall  meet,  and  I  may  say,  "  It  was  I."  I  may  never 
write  again.  I  may  write  to-morrow.  You  are  mine 
because  you  are  that  in  the  higher  sense.  I  have 
selected  your  best  for  company.  If  there  is  in  your 
daily  life  what  might  please  me  less,  I  shall  not 
know  it.  Let  me  live  a  little  in  your  life  on  this 
same  plane  of  partial  knowledge ;  that  much  of  you 
mine,  this  much  of  me  yours. 

"  '  Thy  ever  friend. 

"  <  P.S.  Address,  "Friend,  General  P.  O,">" 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  289 

"  Owen,  Owen/'  said  Alice,  "  I  should  never,  never 
have  shown  that  letter.  It  is  very  tender,  and  to  me 
very  sad." 

"  Suspend  judgment,  dear,  as  to  the  propriety  of 
our  seeing  it  until  I  have  done." 

"He  did  not  answer  it?  Owen,  I  am  afraid  I 
could  not  have  resisted.  I  hope  he  did  not." 

"  He  was  wise  for  once,  and  he  is  not  always  wise. 
Here  is  the  second  letter." 

"  Wait,  Owen.     She  who  wrote  it  is  young." 

"  Probably." 

"  Unhappy?" 

"  Or  thinks  she  is.     I  am  not  sure." 

"  Go  on." 

"  It  begins  oddly.     Listen,  Alice : 

" l  To  you,  friend  of  my  vision,  long  and  cheerful 
years.  To  you,  for  whom  I  wish  this  and  every  other 
good,  I  write  again.  You  did  not  answer  me.  I  am 
glad  you  did  not.  I  should  have  hated  you  had  you 
done  so.  Life  sits  lighter  since  I  won  the  courage  of 
the  pen.  Are  you  a  trifle  curious  as  to  this  silly  fool  ? 
You  adore  beauty.  I  am  beautiful ;  and  you  shall  see 
me  in  spirit  only.  Thus  shall  I  be  the  more  beauti 
ful,  because  imagination  will  lend  her  artful  aid.  All 
this  I  may  with  daring  say,  because  we  shall  never 
meet.  It  remains  the  guiltless  vanity  of  a  dream.  I 
shall  appear  to  your  spirit  with  the  radiant  loveliness 
of  immaterial  conceptions. 

"  l  Ah,  the  sweet  foolishness  of  love  !  I  lay  on  the 
grass  yesterday  and  surrendered  myself  to  the  easy 
prosperity  of  day-dreams.  My  sleep  dreams  are 
often  sad.  We  were  in  a  boat  on  a  swift  river. 


290  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

You  had  the  helm.  I  lay  facing  you.  Vast  cliffs, 
tree-crowned,  hung  over  us.  The  waters  leaped  in 
great  curves  across  hidden  rocks  5  voices  of  hope 
and  voices  of  fear  called  to  us  from  the  watery 
turmoil ;  sweet  confusions  of  the  stream,  as  of  memo 
ries  of  long  ago,  songs  by  dead  lovers  sung,  fading, 
and  heard  again.  At  last  night  came,  and  darkness 
inconceivable,  close,  stifling.  Yet  still  we  sped  on, 
winged  by  unseen  forces  j  and  now  over  the  quiet  of 
tranquil  water  we  seemed  to  be  flying  as  through 
space.  Then  suddenly  you  cried,  "  Behold  the  day- 
spring  from  on  high/7  The  sun  leaped  up,  and  was 
born  of  the  night  in  an  instant  of  time,  amid  swift- 
rolling  clouds  of  scarlet  and  gold ;  and  there  about 
us  lay  a  wonderland  of  peace  and  quiet  labor  and  fer 
tile  fields.  Quickly  the  river  narrowed  to  where  it 
swept  into  a  deep  gorge,  under  a  low  arch  of  dark 
marble,  and  behold,  it  split  to  right  and  left,  and  the 
boat  paused  before  a  palace  stair.  "  Come,"  you  said ; 
and  we  went  in.  At  last  we  came  to  a  great  bronze 
door.  You  said :  "  Within  are  all  the  secrets  of  life. 
Within  are  they  who  will  answer  all  questions.  Art 
happy  ?  Thou  wilt  learn  why.  The  day  of  thy  death  1 
Ask.  It  will  be  told  thee.  What  is  eternity  ?  What 
is  God?  Why  the  earth  is?"  Then  said  I,  "No, 
never."  And,  saying  I  was  wise,  you  led  me  forth  to 
a  garden,  and  there  you  said,  "  Behold,  as  the  day- 
spring,  so  too  is  the  nightfall " ;  and  as  at  morning, 
so  at  evening  the  sun  fell  like  a  great  meteor,  and  it 
was  dark.  My  strange  day-dream,  with  its  impress 
of  reality,  was  over.  I  was  lying  on  the  grass,  un 
happy  because  of  the  loss  of  your  company.  There 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  291 

came  to  my  mind  some  lines  of  a  poem,  for  I  felt  the 
sweet  touches  and  the  dear  homeliness  of  the  grass : 

"  '  Green  countenance  of  earth,  forever  fair ! 
Thou  lovely  smile  of  the  maternal  earth, 
When,  lying  in  the  soft  embrace  of  air, 
She  feeleth  the  young  spring  abound  in  her, 
And  laugheth  in  her  bliss,  and  looketh  forth 
Amongst  the  clouds. 

"  c  And  such  as  this  is  given  men  to  read,  and  they 
will  not.  Perhaps  it  is  well  that  the  idle  world  leaves 
the  best  to  the  best,  and  goes  its  meager  way.  Here 
is  a  silly  letter,  but  again  I  say,  to  write  it  gives  me 
a  certain  joy,  and  you  must,  you  will,  forgive  and  not 
quite  forget  thy  ever  friend/ 

"  One  letter/'  I  said,  "  is  quite  commonplace,  very 
simple,  even  childlike.  Let  us  leave  that.  But  here 
is  one  other  I  must  read : 

"  *  To  you  long  and  cheerful  years.  Sometimes  I 
sit  alone  and  cry  because  of  having  sent  these  letters. 
Then  a  voice  from  within,  the  voice  of  nature,  com 
forts  me.  I  seem  to  have  escaped,  in  them,  into  the 
natural  world  of  the  earth's  youth,  whence  I  know 
not.  I  make  mad  use  of  freedom  to  be  myself,  to 
say,  "  I  love  you."  I  hear  you  ask  in  scorn,  "  Why  ?  " 

'"Do  not  thou  bewilder  love,  asking  for  his  reasons. 

"  *  There  is  your  own  feather  on  the  fatal  dart. 
Soon  or  late  there  is  a  tragedy  in  every  love.  If 
I  should  die  and  lose  you !  I  am  sick  with  the  an 
guish  of  a  giant  fear,  the  fear  to  lose  that  which  I 


292  DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS 

have  not.  Oh,  the  sweet  folly  of  it  all !  Love,  the 
magic  toy  which  makes  us  children  all!  I  see  you 
flush  a  little.  We  fence  in  darkness.  I  hear.  Ah,  I 
have  touched  you,  a  pin-point.  No,  you  will  never 
see  me.  I  should  die  of  shame ;  and  yet,  I  am  fair  to 
see,  strong  and  beautiful.  No,  no  !  Good  night.  I 
shall  write  no  more.7  " 

"  Owen,  Owen  !  ".  said  my  wife.  "  It  is  sad,  pitiful. 
I  am  sorry  for  her,  ashamed  for  her."  There  were 
tears  in  the  dear  eyes  of  my  Alice. 

"Yes,  dear,"  I.  said,  " I  understand.  Now  let  us 
talk.  You  may  look  them  over  before  I  return 
them." 

"She  must  be  very  young;  and,  Owen,  is  this 
last  letter  quite  sane  ?  Was  the  woman  in  her  right 
mind?" 

'"  Ah,  dear  Alice,  her  right  mind  !  Have  we  a  left 
mind  which  is  less  dexterous?  But,  not  to  jest, 
there  are  times  when  certain  people  are,  as  we  say, 
not  themselves,  but  another.  No  woman,  unless  in  a 
passion  of  love,  could  have  written  a  part  of  the  last 
letter.  Better  read  it  yourself." 

Alice  took  the  sheets  and  read  it  slowly.  "  Is  love 
ever  sane,  Owen  ? "  she  said,  looking  up. 

"  Let  us  postpone  the  answer.  Have  you  no  idea 
who  wrote  these  letters,  my  dear  ?  " 

"Not  I,  Owen." 

"  Look  at  the  ending,  l  Thy  ever  friend.' " 

"Well?" 

"  And  the  beginning  of  the  second,  t  To  you  long 
and  cheerful  years.7 " 

"  They  are  certainly  rather  quaint." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  293 

"  And,  dear  Alice,  are  remembrances  of  Sir  Henry 
Woton's  letters  to  his  nephew." 

"  Owen !    How  dreadful !     Is  it— can  it  be  Sibyl  ? " 

"Yes  and  no.  You  saw  her  in  the  garden  in  her 
trance  state,  a  product  of  hysteria.  She  has  periods 
when  she  does  things  of  which  later  she  has  no  re 
membrance.  Thus  she  ordered  the  pedestal  put  in 
her  own  sittiDg-room,  as  the  butler  told  me ;  and  she 
herself  assured  me  that  she  found  it  there  and  had 
been  surprised.  In  her  sound  state  she  is  able  to 
control  herself,  and  has,  I  think,  overcome  the  impres 
sion  made  by  St.  Glair's  thoughtless  admiration  of 
her  head  and  face.  In  these  times  of  alternate  con 
sciousness  she  obeys  her  emotional  nature;  she  is 
even  vain  of  her  beauty — is,  in  fact,  no  longer  our 
modest  Sibyl.  This  is  my  conclusion.  I  may  be 
wrong." 

"  And  what,  Owen,  can  we  do  ?  And  does  Mr.  St. 
Clair  know?" 

"  He  does  not.  But  the  letters  trouble  him.  He 
said,  if  it  were  some  foolish  school-girl  it  would 
matter  little,  but  these  were  the  letters  of  no  common 
person." 

"You  will  tell  him?" 

"  I  do  not  think  I  shall,  but  I  want  above  all  to 
be  sure  he  does  not  reply  to  these  letters.  The  girl 
is  in  a  state  of  peril.  Her  anemia  is  of  a  danger 
ous  type,  for  months  better,  and  then  alarming. 
Let  us  put  it  all  aside  for  to-night.  I  want  to  send 
you  to  bed  with  something  more  amusing  to  think 
over." 

"  Indeed,  nothing  will  put  it  out  of  my  head.     I 
20 


294  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

shall  imagine  all  manner  of  things.  If  I  am  two 
people,  and  one  can  pop  up  like  a  jack-in-the-box,  I 
may  be  six  people,  and  how  can  I  be  responsible  for 
the  love-affairs  of  five  ?  Have  I  six  consciences  ? " 

I  laughed.  "  Most  folks  never  see  their  double,  the 
eccentric  boarder.  But  I  promised  to  amuse  you." 

"  No  one  can  amuse  me  to-night." 

"  Listen,  then,  and  believe." 

"Well,  and  what  is  it?" 

"  Anne  Vincent  has  told  you  about  Weevils  and 
the  seance." 

"  Yes.    She  was  very  much  impressed." 

"  She  might  well  be  that.  I,  too,  was  puzzled.  Our 
dear  scamp  St.  Clair  bribed  the  medium  to  let  him 
take  his  place.  You  know  what  a  perfect  mimic  he 
is.  He  did  it  well." 

"Owen,  Owen!  is  that  so?  What  a  daring  joke! 
I  grieve  to  have  missed  it.  I  shall  make  St.  Clair 
rehearse  for  me.  Will  Anne  ever  forgive  him  ?  And 
Vincent?" 

"I  think  he  will  if  it  does  anything  to  cure  his 
wife  of  her  taste  for  the  mysterious." 

"  Dear  Anne !  It  is  only  a  taste  for  novel  sensa 
tions.  She  wants  whatever  she  has  not  or  cannot 
have.  To  this  day  she  wants  to  see  that  man  Xerxes 
—she,  of  all  people." 

"  St.  Clair  declares  that  he  will  tell  them  all,  and 
he  will." 

"  And  he  ought  to  do  so,  Owen." 

"  If,"  said  I,  "  Anne  Vincent  is  in  what  you  call 
her  receptive  mood  when  he  confesses,  it  will  go 
well  enough." 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  295 

"  She  is  very  odd  about  that,"  said  my  wife.  "  If 
I  say,  '  Here,  Anne,  is  a  delightful  poem/  and  read  it 
to  her,  as  like  as  not  she  may  say,  l  My  dear,  it  is 
wretched  stuff/  And  if  she  is,  as  you  say,  receptive, 
she  is  all  thanks  and  delighted  like  a  child." 

"May  I  be  there  to  see?"  said  I.  "I  dislike  prac 
tical  jokes  as  much  as  Vincent  does  j  but  it  will  be 
great  fun.  You  should  have  heard  Clayborne  inter 
viewing  Kant.  I  think  St.  Glair  will  bring  it  out 
when  we  are  all  together,  and  thus  escape  the  private 
tribulation  of  making  his  peace  with  one  at  a  time." 

"  That  would  be  clever.  We  dine  with  Clayborne 
on  Friday  week,  do  we  not  ? n 

"  Yes.     Good  night,  dear." 

"  Good  night,  and  don't  sit  up  too  late,  and  don't 
smoke  too  much." 

"No— as  if  I  ever  do." 


XVIII 

MADE  several  attempts  to  find  St. 
Glair,  and  at  last  wrote  him  a  note,  to 
which  he  made  no  reply.  I  had,  how 
ever,  an  appointment  with  him  which 
I  knew  he  would  keep;  but  this  was 
ten  days  from  the  date  of  my  talk  with  Mrs.  North. 
Meanwhile  the  seance  and  Mr.  Weevils  had  been  much 
discussed.  Clayborne,  who  had  called  to  pay  the  me 
dium,  told  us  that  Weevils  declared  himself  to  be  en 
tirely  without  recollection  of  what  had  passed.  The 
comical  truth  of  this  amused  my  wife  and  St.  Clair,  who 
had  reenacted  the  whole  comedy  f  or  Mrs.North's  benefit. 
At  this  time  Sibyl,  during  a  temporary  absence  of 
Clayborne,  was  spending  a  few  days  in  our  house. 
She  was  in  one  of  her  periods  of  improved  health,  and, 
although  far  from  vigorous,  was  interesting,  simple, 
and  natural.  That  this  gentle,  modest  maid  had  in  her 
the  possibilities  disclosed  by  the  letters  to  St.  Clair 
appeared  to  my  wife  almost  unbelievable.  Our  little 
girl,  now  five  years  old,  never  willingly  left  Sibyl. 
Their  acquaintance  began  in  an  odd  way,  which  I 
might  better  have  mentioned  earlier. 

My  young  lady  was   observant.     Few  things  es 
caped  her,  and  she  was  apt  to  be  frank  as  to  what- 

296 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  297 

ever  excited  her  interest.  When  she  asked  my  wife's 
mother  why  she  put  powder  on  her  nose  it  was 
simply  the  statement  of  a  fact  observed,  and  on  a 
level  with  her  announcement  that  St.  Glair  had  a 
new  necktie.  She  had  yet  to  learn  the  useful  art  of 
concealing  knowledge. 

When  first  she  met  Miss  Maywood,  Sibyl  was 
seated  on  a  bench  in  Mr.  Clayborne's  garden.  I  was 
behind  her  unnoticed,  and  was  nursing  the  precious 
end  of  a  cigar,  which,  as  often  happens,  had  been 
valuable  in  aiding  that  form  of  conjuring  we  call 
thought.  I  saw  my  little  maid  come  hesitating 
across  the  garden.  She  saw,  but  took  no  notice  of 
me.  She  picked  a  flower  and  came  nearer.  I  was 
not  wanted.  Something  drew  her  to  Miss  Maywood, 
who,  seeing,  her,  laid  aside  her  book  and  began  in 
turn  to  inspect  my  young  diplomatist  as  she  made 
cautious  approach.  Said  Sibyl,  "This  must  be  Mary 
North.  Come  and  pay  me  a  little  visit."  Sibyl's 
voice,  of  which  I  have  already  spoken,  seemed  con 
vincing.  My  little  lady,  pausing,  said,  "  I  don't  know 
you,"  and  then,  "I  like  you."  Sibyl's  tact  with 
children  was  faultless.  She  did  not  kiss  the  child, 
but  made  room  for  her  on  the  bench,  saying,  "  We 
shall  be  friends,  I  know.  Did  you  ever  make  dande 
lion  chains?"  Mary  confessed  ignorance.  Mean 
while  Miss  Maywood  talked  pleasant  nothings,  not 
insisting  on  abrupt  intimacy,  such  as  wise  child 
hood  instinctively  dislikes.  Meanwhile  this  small 
social  naturalist  was  considering  her  new  acquain 
tance.  I  listened  with  interest.  She  would  by  and 
by  announce  some  verdict.  At  last  she  said : 


298  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"You  have  long  eyelashes,  termendously  long." 
The  little  maid  had  the  vocabulary  of  a  girl  of  six 
teen,  and  delighted  in  the  use  of  the  big  words  which 
she  picked  up  from  her  elders. 

"  I  must  have  them  cut,"  said  Sibyl,  laughing. 

"  No,  you  must  not.  They  are  lovelly."  And  then 
with  abruptness,  "  Why  do  you  have  one  shoulder  so 
high  up,  and  why  do  you  walk  hippety-hop  ?  I  saw 
you." 

To  have  interfered  would  have  been  to  embarrass 
Sibyl,  as  yet  unconscious  of  my  presence. 

She  replied  at  once :  "  When  I  was  a  little  girl 
like  you  a  careless  nurse  left  me  alone,  and  I  had  a 
fall  down-stairs,  and  then  I  had  a  bad  doctor;  and 
that  is  why  I  shall  never,  never  be  straight  like  you." 

"  I  will  speak  to  my  papa.  He  can  make  anybody 
well." 

"  No  j  only  God  can  make  me  well." 

"  Then  I  will  pway  God  to  make  you  stwaight  like 
my  mama." 

"  He  will  some  day,  dear." 

"Oh,  I  am  glad  of  that";  and,  to  my  surprise,  the 
child,  who  rarely  condescended  to  embrace  any  one 
not  of  her  home  circle,  threw  her  arms  about  Sibyl's 
neck  and  kissed  her.  Then  she  confided  to  her  new 
friend  that  mama  did  say  that  she,  Mary,  must  sit 
up  straight  at  table.  Miss  Maywood  also  thought  it 
advisable. 

"  If  I  am  not  stwaight  I  can  never,  never  be  maw- 
ied.  Nurse  says  so.  Can  you  never  be  mawied  ? " 

"Never,  never." 

"  I  want  to  be  mawied  sevewal  times." 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  299 

"  Goodness,  dear !     Why  ? " 

"Because  you  get  pwesents."  Then  there  was  a 
pause. 

"I  wish  I  was  older,  then  I  would  have  been  at 
my  mama's  wedding." 

Upon  this  I  broke  down,  and  Sibyl,  laughing,  rose., 

Mary  said  gravely,  "  I  will  kiss  you  once  more." 
It  was  the  solemn  seal  of  an  unlimited  friendship,  and 
the  pair  walked  away  to  practise  the  enticing  art  of 
making  dandelion  chains. 

On  the  Wednesday  of  my  appointment  with  St. 
Clair  I  took  Mary  with  me  in  my  carriage.  Her 
mother  was  eager  to  know  why  I  wanted  the  child 
so  frequently.  In  fact,  St.  Clair  was  making  a  me 
dallion  of  her  head,  and  it  was  to  remain  unknown 
to  Alice  until  Christmas.  Mary  had  been  told  to 
keep  this  a  secret,  and,  like  many  children,  enjoyed 
the  legitimate  privilege  of  concealing  something 
from  her  elders.  She  kept  faith  as  to  the  matter 
with  staunch  fidelity. 

St.  Clair  was  at  home.  He  set  the  small  maid 
on  a  stool,  put  a  table  before  her,  and  invited  her 
to  make  something  out  of  a  lump  of  moist  clay. 
She  worked  at  it  ardently,  asking  advice,  and  trying 
with  sedulous  care  to  copy  a  leaf.  St.  Clair  helped 
her,  and  went  to  and  fro  from  her  side  to  his  own 
work,  the  maid  chattering  at  intervals. 

Meanwhile  I  gave  him  back  the  letters.  He  put 
them  in  the  pouch  of  his  blouse.  When  the  sitting 
was  over  and  he  had  set  free  the  little  one,  he  said : 

"  And  now,  what  about  these  letters  ?  What  should 
I  do?" 


300  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  You  must  do  nothing,  Victor,  and  I  want  you  to 
promise  me  that  you  will  not  answer  them." 

"But  why  not?" 

"  Because  that  will  encourage  a  folly.  The  writer 
may  be  an  old  woman." 

"  Great  heavens,  Owen  !  " 

"  Or  an  experimental  schoolmistress." 

"No." 

"  I  am  jesting,  Victor  j  but  for  obvious  reasons  you 
must  not  reply." 

"  What,  not  a  word  ? "  He  was  evidently  yearning 
to  write  to  this  romantic  correspondent. 

"  I  should  do  no  such  thing." 

"I  really  must  make  some  reply.  I  must  make 
some  reply." 

I  had  meant  to  conceal  my  own  conviction  as  to 
Sibyl  having  been  the  anonymous  writer.  Now  I 
knew  that  unless  Victor  made  me  a  distinct  promise 
he  would  surely  answer  in  a  letter  of  poetic  rhetoric. 

I  said :  "  My  dear  Victor,  you  cannot,  must  not 
reply  to  these  letters,  because—"  and  I  hesitated. 

"  Because  of  what  ? "  he  urged. 

"  You  yourself,"  I  urged,  "  saw  that  they  were  un 
usual.  You  were  troubled  sufficiently  to  ask  advice. 
Now  you  are  in  another  mood  and  cannot  resist  the 
temptation  to  play  with  a  perilous  situation." 

"  What  nonsense  !  " 

Then  I  knew  that  I  must  speak  frankly.  I  could 
not  let  Sibyl  run  the  risk  of  a  correspondence.  I  said : 
"You  must  not  reply.  If  you  had  been  a  little 
more  observant  you  would  have  seen  that  your 
letter- writer  quoted  Sir  Henry  Watton." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  301 

"  Good  heavens,  Owen !  " 

"  Yes,  Victor.    Sibyl  May  wood  wrote  those  letters." 

At  this  time  we  were  distant  from  my  still-occupied 
child,  at  the  far  end  of  the  studio.  St.  Clair  turned 
suddenly. 

"  It  is  a  damned  lie,  whoever  said  it." 

'•  Hush !  "  I  cried,  amazed  at  this  outbreak.  The 
girl  had  begun  to  listen.  "  You  are  not  very  wise, 
nor  very— 

"  Oh,  confound  it !  I  don't  believe  it.  Why  the 
devil  did  you  tell  me  ? " 

He  was  in  the  toils  of  an  overmastering  emotion, 
the  reason  for  which  I  could  not  see.  His  chin 
muscles  were  twitching— an  unfailing  signal  of  emo 
tional  disturbance.  Seeing  the  effort  he  was  making 
to  regain  self-command,  I  went  on  talking  of  the 
conditions  of  physical  health  which  in  some  rare 
cases  bring  on  the  irresponsible  state  of  an  alternate 
consciousness,  in  which  people  may  write  as  Sibyl 
had  done.  At  last  he  began  to  hear,  and  soon  to  listen, 
and  by  and  by  said  abruptly :  "  Curious  case,  Owen." 
Then  he  laughed  a  kind  of  laugh  not  quite  pleasing 
to  hear,  and  said :  "  Well,  I  suppose  you  are  correct ; 
but  what  a  charming  reply  one  could  have  made  !  " 

"St.  Clair,  you  cannot  mean  that?" 

"  Yes.  I  did  conclude  to  write  to  this  woman.  In 
her  first  letter  she  tells  me  her  post-office  address.  I 
was  troubled,  but  I  meant  merely  to  say  a  kind  word, 
and— now,  don't  grin  in  that  extra-exasperating  way 
—I  would  have  pointed  out  the  folly  of  what  she  was 
doing.  What  you  have  said,  of  course,  ends  the  mat 
ter,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned." 


302  DE.   NOETH  AND   HIS  FEIENDS 

St.  Clair,  as  an  adviser  of  a  damsel  unwise  enough 
to  write  him  love-letters,  did  amuse  me.  I  said :  "  You 
dear  old  fellow  !  You  would  begin  your  letter  like  a 
grandpapa  and  wind  up  like  a  lover. 

"  She  wrote,"  I  added,  "  in  a  state  of  alternate  con 
sciousness.  The  real  Sibyl  does  not  know  that  she 
wrote  these  letters.  It  is  an  hysterical  phenomenon, 
strange  to  you,  not  unfamiliar  to  me.  You  must  do 
nothing,  and  must  speak  of  it  to  no  one.  If  you  get 
other  letters,  I,  as  her  doctor,  must  see  them.  No 
one  else  shall  do  so." 

St.  Clair  stood  still  a  moment.  "Yes,  you  alone 
shall  see  them.  I  mentioned  them  to  Mrs.  Vincent. 
She  advised  me  to  burn  them.  Take  them.  Keep 
them,  Owen,  and  when  it  appears  best  to  burn 
them,  do  so.  I  wish  to  say,  Owen,  that  I  am  pro 
foundly  sorry.  I  spoke  rather  wildly.  Do  not 
scold  me.  I  am  the  fool  of  my  art.  I  know  it  too 
well.  I  am  more  than  sufficiently  punished.  At  first 
it  seemed— well— then  I  thought  what  passing  fancy 
I  had  called  out  was  gone.  I— well— no  matter." 

"  For  this  abnormal  result  you  are  hardly  respon 
sible.  Let  us  drop  the  matter  for  the  present." 

"  Thank  you,  Owen  " ;  and  he  set  a  hand  on  each  of 
my  shoulders.  "  Thank  you,  old  friend,  and  kindly 
let  what  has  passed  here  rest  between  us." 

"  Of  course."     And  yet  it  had  puzzled  me. 

We  looked  at  Mary,  still  busy,  and  then  I  asked : 
"  By  the  way,  have  you  ever  heard  of  Xerxes  since 
your  last  bout  with  him  ?  " 

"No,  never." 

"  Well,  good-by  "  5  and  we  left  him. 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  303 

Clayborne  wrote  me  soon  after  this  interview  that 
he  would  be  absent  for  a  month  or  more  ;  and  we,  of 
course,  were  glad  to  keep  his  cousin. 

St.  Clair  had  on  him  one  of  his  visiting-spells.  At 
times  we  did  not  see  him  in  our  houses  for  weeks  to 
gether.  It  was  his  way,  and  we  had  long  since  learned 
one  of  the  great  lessons  of  friendship,  not  to  insist  on 
friends  being  other  than  their  nature  lets  them  be. 
Now,  as  I  said,  he  was  a  frequent  visitor,  or,  as  Sibyl 
used  at  first  to  say,  "  caller."  One  Sunday  evening  he 
came  in  after  dinner,  at  which  meal  we  had  as  guests 
the  Vincents.  When  St.  Clair  entered  I  was  talking 
to  Mrs.  Vincent  about  Mary,  her  goddaughter.  My 
wife  and  Sibyl  were  close  together,  exchanging  little 
laughs  as  if  in  a  game.  They  seemed  very  well 
pleased.  What  was  the  source  of  this  flow  of  gentle 
merriment  I  do  not  know.  I  wondered,  as  I  glanced 
at  them,  if  men  or  women  laugh  more.  I  was  about 
to  put  this  question  to  Mrs.  Vincent  when,  as  I  have 
said,  St.  Clair  entered.  He  was  clad  in  his  studio 
jacket  of  brown  velvet,  with  a  careless  red  tie  and  a 
low  shirt-collar,  the  same  unconventional  attire  which 
once  so  shocked  my  good  mother-in-law.  He  was  in 
radiant  spirits,  handsome  with  that  rare  type  of  regu 
larity  of  features  combined  with  the  look  of  intellec 
tual  energy.  Alcibiades  may  have  had  it.  Vincent, 
at  ease  in  our  friendly  house,  was  hastily  skimming 
the  pages  of  the  Sunday  "  Tribunal." 

"And  so  you  forgot  us  and  your  dinner?"  said 
Mrs.  North  to  St.  Clair. 

"  I  did,  I  did.  But  I  had  an  adventure,  a  real  ad 
venture.  Shall  I  be  pardoned  my  failure  if  I  tell  it  ? n 


304  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Yes,  if  it  be  told  at  once,  because  if  I  let  you  off 
a  promised  taie  I  never  hear  any  more  of  it.  There 
was  that  fine  story  of  the  man  who  advertised  for  a 
wife.  Where  is  that,  sir  ? " 

"  I  promise/'  said  St.  Glair,  "  you  shall  have  it,  but 
this  adventure  was  so  interesting  that  I  forgot 
your  dinner  and  went  to  the  club.  On  my  way  home 
I  heard  your  piano  reproaching  me,  and  so  here  I  am." 

I  said : 

"  The  wedding-guest  he  beat  his  breast, 
For  he  heard  the  loud  bassoon." 

"  But  it  is  not  loud,"  said  Sibyl.  "  It  is  of  all  the 
instruments  the  least  heard,  the  softest." 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  I,  "  this  comes  of  living  with 
Mr.  Clayborne." 

"  There  is  a  mania  for  accuracy  nowadays,"  said 
my  wife.  "  I  see  that '  Esmond/  my  dear  l  Esmond '  is 
historically  false;  that  Duke  Hamilton  would  have 
been  guilty  of  bigamy  had  he  married  Beatrix ;  that 
the  Pretender  never  was  in  England  in  the  reign  of 
Anne.  It  is  most  provoking.  And  here  is  Sibyl  find 
ing  fault  with  the  t  loud  bassoon.'  When  we  come  to 
taxing  poets  with  want  of  accuracy  it  becomes— 
Owen,  I  want  an  adjective." 

"  Leave  your  adjectives  to  the  imagination  of  your 
adversary." 

"  Good,"  she  added.  "  Sibyl,  I  leave  you  the  de 
scriptive  choice.  Next  we  shall  have  absolute  accu 
racy  demanded  in  social  life." 

"  Or,  worse,"  said  I,  "  exacted  in  conversation,  or, 
worse  yet,  in  domestic  life." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  305 

"  Is  nature  ever  inaccurate  f "  said  Sibyl.  Usually 
simple,  Miss  Maywood  would  occasionally  ask  some 
such  absurd  question. 

"She  is  always  inaccurate,"  said  St.  Clair.  "That 
is  her  charm." 

"  But  define  accuracy,"  said  Vincent,  behind  the 
newspaper. 

"  I  should  have  stayed  at  the  club,"  said  the  poet. 
"  At  this  rate  I  shall  never  tell  my  adventure.  I  in 
sist  on  my  right.  I  was  about  to  dress  for  your  din 
ner  when  my  man  said  a  gentleman  insisted  on  seeing 
me.  I  found  him  in  the  drawing-room.  He  apolo 
gized  for  his  visit,  and  said  he  was  a  younger  brother 
of  Mr.  Gaston,  once  minister  to  Berlin.  He  laid  a 
card  on  the  table  as  he  spoke.  I  expressed  my  plea 
sure  at  seeing  him.  I  knew  all  the  other  brothers  and 
had  made  busts  of  two  of  them.  He  desired  to  have 
a  bas-relief  of  his  daughter  and  to  make  an  appoint 
ment  and  learn  my  terms.  On  my  replying,  he  took 
out  a  pocket-book  and  wrote  the  needed  information 
on  a  slip  of  paper.  Then  he  said,  1 1  have  a  check  in 
blank.  Shall  I  settle  now?7  I  thought  this  rather 
queer,  and  said,  '  No,  of  course  not/  '  Ah,  I  see/  he 
added,  'that  I  am  out  of  money.  Can  you  let  me 
have  twenty  dollars  ?  I  am  on  my  way  to  New  York. 
But  it  is  of  no  moment ;  I  can  cash  a  check  at  the 
St.  George  Hotel.  They  know  me.'  I  said,  <  That  is 
needless/  and  went  at  once  to  my  secretary  to  get 
the  money.  Then  I  had  a  sudden  qualm  of  doubt.  I 
said,  'How  is  John  Gaston's  son?  He  was  ill  last 
spring;  a  spinal  curvature,  you  know.'  'Oh,  he  is 
quite  well  now.7  '  Ah,  my  friend/  said  I,  '  you  seem 


306  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

sadly  ignorant  as  to  your  family.  John  Gaston  has 
no  son,  and  you  are  a  fraud/  He  replied  that  he  had 
not  come  there  to  be  insulted,  and  would  go.  On  this 
I  said :  i  Don't  rise»  The  little  scheme  is  ruined.  You 
are  a  scamp,  but  you  did  it  all  so  well  that  you  inter 
est  me.  If  you  will  take  a  cigar  and  sit  down  for  a 
half -hour  and  tell  me  your  true  history  I  will  give 
you  twenty-five  dollars,  and  I  will  not  call  a  police 
man/" 

"  What  did  he  say  ? "  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  For  a  little  while,  nothing.  Meanwhile  I  took  out 
my  cigar-case.  He  took  a  cigar  in  silence,  accepted 
a  match,  lit  it,  and,  seating  himself,  said :  l  You  could 
prove  nothing.  You  may  do  as  you  please.  I  shall 
not  mention  my  name.  I  think  I  may  interest  you. 
I  am  a  kleptomaniac.  From  my  first  remembrance  I 
stole,  and  whatever  I  thus  obtained  gave  me  pleasure 
such  as  nothing  else  did.  I  stole  and  hoarded  useless 
things  like  a  raven;  but  as  I  grew  older,  though 
more  cautious,  I  continued  to  steal.  At  last  I  found 
it  agreeable  to  take  a  spoon  or  a  fork  off  a  table  and 
leave  it  elsewhere,  on  the  floor  or  on  a  chair.  Of 
course  I  was  in  endless  trouble,  and  at  last  was  put 
in  an  asylum,  I  ran  away  easily,  and  an  effort  to 
prove  me  insane  failed.  At  twenty-five  I  inherited  a 
competency,  and  this  proved  valuable,  because  when 
detected  I  could  pay.  I  know  I  am  peculiar,  because 
I  steal  utterly  valueless  articles,  and  I  even  steal  from 
myself.  I  like  to  steal  my  hat  and  leave  it  in  the 
attic  and  set  every  one  looking  for  it.  I  find  pleasure 
in  elaborate  plans  of  theft  like  the  one  you  detected. 
It  is  a  game  of  skill.  I  should  have  sent  back  the 


DR.  NORTH   AND   HIS   FRIENDS  307 

money.  I  do  not  need  it.  I  think  I  should  have 
sent  it  back.'  I  said,  '  Are  you  never  arrested  nowa 
days  ? 7  l  Yes.  But  I  keep  two  closets  full  of  gridirons, 
frying-pans,  corsets,  inkstands,  women's  bonnets,  and 
what  not.  That  always  clears  me,  that  and  the  doc 
tors.  You  see,  I  am  a  kleptomaniac.  I  take  quite 
useless  things.7  l  And  could  you  stop  thieving  V  i  I 
think  I  could  have  done  so  once.  I  cannot  now  j  I  do 
not  want  to  stop.  I  like  it.  I  like  the  risk.7  <  Don't 
you  think/  said  I, '  that  a  good  sound  thrashing  might 
cure  you  ? 7  l  Pain  is  a  powerful  motive.  It  might. 
I  dread  pain.7  l  It  is  very  interesting/  said  I.  l  Is  it 
not  ? '  said  he.  i  I  knew  it  would  interest  you.  But 
now  I  must  go.  I  am  much  obliged,  and  of  course 
I  do  not  want  the  money.  Thanks  for  a  pleasant 
visit.7  I  showed  him  to  the  door,  and  he  went  away, 
a  well-dressed  man  of  thirty-five,  in  a  neat  silk  hat, 
and  carrying  a  slim,  neatly  folded  umbrella." 

"  And  was  all  that  an  invention  of  the  thief  ? 77  said 
Vincent. 

"No;  it  is  probably/7  said  I,  "a  true  story.  The 
man  has  a  morbid  pride  in  his  mental  disorder.  Very 
likely  he  decorated  the  tale.  You  observe  that  he  did 
not  take  St.  Claires  money.  One  sees  sane  people 
who  are  distinctly  proud  of  what  may  be  to  others 
disagreeable  moral  or  physical  traits.  This  man  has 
a  monomania.  He  sets  all  that  is  sound  in  him  to 
assist  his  indulgence  of  the  unsound  impulse,  and,  at 
need,  to  protect  him  from  legal  or  other  consequences.77 

Said  Vincent :  "  We  all  want  our  neighbors  goods. 
A  thief  takes  them  deliberately.  An  insane  man 
takes  them  at  first  as  a  child  takes,  impulsively.  At 


308  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

last  he  learns  the  consequences,  but  meanwhile  the 
impelling  desire  strengthens.  These  people  should 
be  physically  punished.  They  disobey  law  and  know 
that  they  do  so.  They  say  they  cannot  help  it.  I 
would  raise  the  punitive  consequences  to  the  level  of 
the  impulsive  activity." 

"  That  's  a  phrase  worthy  of  Clayborne,"  said  St. 
Clair  j  "  but  how  would  you  do  it  ? " 

"Let  me  answer  for  Vincent/'  said  I.  "The  only 
kleptomaniac  I  ever  knew  to  be  cured  was  a  young 
woman.  After  her  people,  who  were  mechanics,  had 
seriously  suffered  from  her  useless  thefts,  her  father 
treated  her  as  he  would  have  done  a  child,  and  soundly 
whipped  her.  The  consequences  thus  rose  to  the  pre 
ventive  point.  After  three  such  thrashings  she  got 
entirely  well,  and  later  said  it  was  the  only  cure  pos 
sible.  I  do  not  advise  it." 

"  I  cannot  see  why,"  said  Vincent.  "  I  should  like 
to  apply  it  to  the  megalo-kleptomaniacs  like  Xerxes." 

"What  a  name  !  "  cried  Sibyl. 

"  This  man's  case,"  said  I,  "  as  he  described  it,  is 
more  complicated,  and  will  end  in  some  form  of  gen 
eral  mental  degeneration.  It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose 
that  only  the  honest  and  the  sane  take  pride  in  the 
success  with  which  they  pursue  their  callings." 

"The  study  of  criminal  natures,"  said  Vincent, 
"must  be  interesting.  Tell  them,  Owen,  about  the 
man  you  knew  who  was  what  he  called  a  respectable 
thief." 

"I  will,"  said  I,  "but  it  is  rather  a  long  story. 
When  I  was  a  very  young  doctor,  a  man  came  to 
consult  me.  He  was  stout,  rosy,  and  very  alert  in  his 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  309 

movements.  He  spoke  fairly  good  English,  but  was, 
I  thought,  uneducated.  He  was  known  as  an  insur 
ance  agent,  and  lived  with  some  ,old  clerks  in  a  house 
kept  by  the  sisters  of  one  of  them.  When  first  he 
consulted  me  he  had  very  little  money,  and  was,  of 
course,  charitably  considered.  Year  after  year  he 
called  on  me  at  long  intervals,  being  subject  to  slight 
gouty  troubles.  One  day  he  came  in  looking  pale 
and  ill.  He  said  to  me  apart :  l  Please  to  look  out  of 
your  window  and  see  if  a  tall  man  is  walking  to  and 
fro  across  the  way.'  I  thought  it  an  odd  request, 
but  did  as  he  desired.  There  was  no  one  there.  I 
made  no  comment  until  he  had  received  some  needed 
advice,  but  felt  that  I  might  reasonably  inquire  as  to 
what  or  whom  he  feared.  He  made  no  answer  for 
quite  a  minute,  sitting  perfectly  still.  Then  he  said : 
1  You  were,  you  always  have  been,  kind  to  me.  I 
sometimes  think  I  ought  to  tell  you  something.'  *  Do 
so  if  it  will  help  you.  Say  nothing  if  it  will  not  be 
of  use  for  me  to  know.  I  hear  too  many  confessions, 
and  I  am  not  a  priest.'  '  It  seems  mean  to  deceive  a 
man  like  you— and  I  want  to  tell  you.'  '  Very  well. 
What  is  it  ? '  'I  am  not  an  insurance  agent.  I  am  a 
thief.'  I  confess  that,  although  it  was  even  then  dif 
ficult  to  surprise  me,  I  was  both  amazed  and  inter 
ested.  I  said  as  much.  The  small,  fat  man  regarded 
me  attentively.  l  Tell  me  your  life,'  I  said.  '  I  will. 
I  want  to.  I  don't  know  who  my  father  or  mother 
was.  I  was  born  in  the  Bowery,  and  was  fed  and 
lodged  and  beaten  by  an  old  woman  who  had  a  pea 
nut-stand.  A  man  used  to  give  her  money  to  look 
after  me.  She  taught  me  to  steal  fruit  and  vegetables 

21 


310  DE.   NOETH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS 

from  the  markets.  I  was  clever  at  it.  At  fourteen  I 
ran  away  and  became  a  stable-boy  in  a  circus. 
Pretty  soon  I  got  into  the  ring.  At  last  the  juggler 
took  me,  and  in  two  years  I  could  do  all  his  tricks.  I 
never  quite  gave  up  stealing.  My  skill  in  sleight  of 
hand,  I  found,  helped  me  in  business.  One  day  I  had 
a  bad  fall,  and  lay  three  months  in  the  Belle vue  Hos 
pital.  When  I  came  out  the  circus  was  in  California, 
and  I  had  to  rely  on  my  profession.  I  was  careful 
and  of  wonderful  dexterity,  so  much  so  that  I  am  aston 
ished  other  thieves  do  not  learn  to  juggle.  I  never 
drank.  It  made  me  ill.  I  never  did  like  to  be  with 
thieves.  I  learned  to  read  from  the  street  signs,  and 
I  went  one  winter  to  a  night-school.  At  last  I  came 
very  near  to  being  arrested.  It  was  the  only  time. 
It  scared  me  so  badly  that  I  came  to  this  city.  In  the 
train  I  met  an  old  clerk.  I  told  him  that  I  was  an 
insurance  agent.  It  ended  by  my  going  to  lodge 
with  his  sisters/  '  And  you  still  live  by  theft  ? '  '  Yes. 
I  do  most  of  it  at  the  theaters  here  and  in  New  York, 
as  people  go  out  in  a  crowd  or  when  I  sit  behind 
them.  I  have  had  some  large  bits  of  luck,  and  I 
don't  waste  money.  Thieves  might  lay  by  money  if 
they  were  not  such  a  bad  lot.  I  like  to  read.  I  don't 
know  a  single  thief.  I  like  the  country  and  animals. 
After  a  few  years  I  tried  my  luck  in  the  stock  market. 
It  is  n't  very  unlike  my  regular  business.  I  did 
pretty  well,  and  with  one  thing  and  another,  and  a 
risky  grab  I  made  once  in  a  Sound  steamer,  I  have 
put  away  safely  about  thirty-eight  thousand  dollars. 
Now  I  am  going  to  Karlsbad,  as  you  advised,  and  I 
am  going  out  of  business,  too.  I  shall  get  a  little  farm 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FBIENDS  311 

in  Kansas  and  have  animals  about  me.  I  was  afraid 
just  now.  I  thought  I  saw  the  only  detective  I  ever 
dreaded.  Indeed,  I  shall  be  easier  if  you  would  let 
me  go  out  the  back  way.  It  would  be  just  like  luck 
if  I  were  to  get  pinched  as  I  am  retiring  from  busi 
ness/  I  said,  '  Does  it  never  strike  you  as  wrong  to 
live  by  theft?7  'No.  Most  people  have  too  much. 
I  had  too  little.  I  was  left  to  go  to  the  devil.  Who 
cared  for  me?  I  tried  often  to  get  work.  Either  I 
could  not,  or  I  soon  lost  the  place,  or  else  I  made  too 
little  to  live  upon.  All  around  me  was  plenty.  Was 
I  to  starve?  I  was  like  a  bird  in  an  apple-orchard. 
I  wanted  my  diet  and  I  did  n't  want  luxuries.  I  can't 
see  that  it  is  worse  than  gambling  in  stocks,  or  brib 
ing  city  councils  to  enable  men  to  swindle  a  whole 
town.  Why  am  I  to  be  put  in  jail,  and  these  big 
thieves  let  off  ?  It  is  n't  fair.'  What  could  I  say  in 
reply,  except  that  he  was  the  more  excusable  thief? 
I  let  him  out  the  back  way,  and  we  have  never  met 
again." 

Said  Vincent :  "  Is  he  serving  his  term  somewhere, 
or  is  he  married  and  settled  down  to  peaceful  farm 
ing,  a  church  vestryman  perhaps?  Who  can  tell? 
He  ought  to  meet  Xerxes." 

Mrs.  Vincent  had  listened  with  the  utmost  atten 
tion.  Now  she  said :  "  How  delightful  to  see  such 
people !  I  should  so  much  like  to  have  this  fellow 
and  Xerxes  to  dine." 

"  That  is  our  difficulty,  Anne,"  said  Vincent.  "  We 
can  never  see  these  entertaining  scamps.  It  must  be 
very  educational.  There  is  an  asylum  for  moral 
cripples  sustained  by  the  State.  It  is  known  as  the 


312  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

penitentiary.  A  visit  there  would  gratify  your  taste 
for  criminal  society." 

Sibyl  said  :  "  I  once  did  know  a  man  who  was  mor 
ally  perfect,  and  who  never  had  said  or  done  a  wrong 
thing  from  childhood  to  manhood.  I  was  thinking 
that  there  might  be  those  who  never  do  or  say  a 
right  thing.  A  great  deal  must  be  due  to  original 
construction ! " 

"  That/'  said  St.  Glair,  "  makes  us  the  victims  of  a 
corporeal  fate.  We  are,  therefore  we  must  be.  I 
like  that.  It  lets  a  fellow  off  so  easy." 

"  It  is  well  for  a  jesting  argument,"  said  my  wife. 
"  If  one  lived  in  control  of  a  world,  how  interesting  it 
would  be  to  take  a  man  like  the  doctor's  thief  and 
set  him  as  a  child  to  live  his  life  over  amid  better 
surroundings,  with  people  who  were  both  honest  and 
intelligent.  What  chance  had  that  poor  fellow  ?  " 

I  saw  that  Sibyl  was  thinking  how  she  would  make 
over  her  world.  Very  often  I  observed  in  her  this 
tendency  to  apply  to  her  own  case  remarks  like  that 
made  by  my  wife.  I  said  to  her :  "  What  is  it  Mr. 
Clayborne  likes  to  quote  from  El-Din-Attar  about 
this  matter  ? " 

"  I  recall  it,"  said  my  wife,  who,  having  once  heard 
a  short  poem,  could  ever  after  repeat  the  most  of  it. 

"  I  am  the  potter  j  Allah 's  the  clay. 
Was  it  the  potter?     Was  it  the  clay? 
At  his  feet  the  fragments  roll  j 
Lo !  beside  the  wheel  he  stands 
Wondering,  with  idle  hands. 
Let  him  gather  up  his  soul, 
And  make  the  clay  a  poor  man's  bowl. 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  313 

You  may  remember  that  he  sets  out  to  make  of  the 
clay  a  vase  for  a  king." 

"  Yes,"  said  Sibyl,  quite  cheerfully.  "  Some  of  us 
must  be  content  to  be  the  poor  man's  bowl." 

"And  yet,"  said  my  wife,  "  the  clay  is  fit  to  make 
the  king's  vase." 

"  How  we  have  wandered  in  our  talk !  "  said  Mrs. 
Vincent.  "Mr.  Clay  borne  hates  it,  but  what  his 
ideal  of  conversation  may  be  I  never  clearly  made 
out.  He  talks  admirably,  but  he  does  not  converse, 
because  he  is  among  those  who  think  it  better  to 
give  than  to  receive.  When  you  present  him  with 
any  little  problem  he  retires  into  a  leisurely  corner 
of  his  mind,  like  a  squirrel  with  a  nut,  to  crack  and 
consider  the  matter  at  lonely  ease." 

"  He  writes  me  that  he  will  be  at  home  very  soon," 
said  his  cousin. 


XIX 

[LAYBORNE  had  returned,  and  Sibyl, 
the  better  for  my  wife's  watchful  care, 
was  again  at  Holmwood,  where  she 
had  now  but  little  work.  Clayborne 
had  taken  to  speaking  his  many  letters 
into  a  phonograph,  and  as  the  use  of  the  hearing- 
tubes  caused  Sibyl  to  have  headache,  he  employed  a 
clerk  to  take  off  these  records  and  to  type-write  his 
correspondence.  Thus  the  secretary  had  little  to  do 
except  to  find  the  books  he  needed,  to  keep  his  table 
in  order,  and  to  answer  his  invitations.  He  was 
always  unable  to  use  a  stenographer,  for  if  he  at 
tempted  to  dictate,  his  clear,  substantial  English  at 
once  lost  the  valuable  qualities  of  a  style  which,  if 
lacking  lightness  and  grace,  was  never  diffuse  or 
obscure.  "  My  mind,"  he  used  to  say,  "  becomes 
self-attentive  when  I  dictate  to  an  individual,  but 
with  the  pen,  or  when  relating  thought  to  a  machine, 
I  am  at  ease." 

It  was  our  Christmas  dinner,  and,  as  always,  we 
met  for  this  glad  season  at  Clayborne's.  "We  were  to 
spend  the  night,  and,  as  some  of  us  were  busy  people, 
we  went  to  Holmwood  that  day  at  such  times  as 
pleased  us. 

314 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  315 

I  found  Clayborne,  an  hour  before  dinner,  sitting 
before  his  phonograph  and  talking  with  my  wife  and 
Sibyl.  I  heard  him  say :  "  It  is  humiliating  to  become 
aware  that  your  mode  of  expression  is  influenced  by 
the  agency  through  which  you  record  it  j  but  there  is 
one  comfort.  This  machine  can  hear  and  record  at 
almost  any  speed.  No  ordinary  stenographer  writes 
steadily  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  words  a  min 
ute,  and  I  often  talk  too  fast." 

"  The  next  question,"  said  my  wife,  "  is  the  rate  at 
which  an  audience  can  use  speech  addressed  to  it.  I 
have  never  heard  a  speaker  I  could  not  follow,  but 
there  are  people  who  fall  hopelessly  in  the  rear  when 
Phillips  Brooks  is  rolling  out  his  sermons." 

"  My  trouble,"  said  Sibyl,  "  is  that  I  stop  to  con 
sider  something  and  get  left  behind." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  I,  "  what  originally  determined  the 
rate  of  human  speech,  and  if  among  the  lower  tribes 
it  be  any  slower  than  it  is  among  the  more  civilized. 
I  have  the  fancy  that  the  intellectual  class  does,  as 
a  rule,  speak  faster  than  the  uneducated;  but,  of 
course,  there  are  the  exasperating  exceptions  of  able 
men  who  speak  as  if  it  were  needful  to  consider  the 
rest  of  mankind  incapable  of  quickly  apprehending 
what  is  said." 

"Yes,"  said  my  wife,  "we  once  talked  about  this. 
You  said  that  the  diffuse  talkers,  the  profuse  talkers, 
are  nearly  always  rapid.  The  combination  of  excess 
of  talk  with  slowness  of  speech  is  what  goes  to  the 
making  of  the  high-class  bore." 

"You  mentioned  just  now,"  said  Clayborne,  "that 
we  once  discussed  this  matter  of  the  rate  of  speech. 


316  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

I  became  interested,  and  wrote  to  the  oldest  reporter 
of  the  Senate.  This  is  the  substance  of  his  reply. 
Speech  at  the  rate  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  words 
a  minute  is  slow,  and  below  that  number  it  becomes 
wearisome  to  listen  to.  The  fastest  talkers  in  the 
Senate  reach  a  speed  of  one  hundred  and  eighty 
words.  That  is  three  a  second.  But  this  is  only  for 
a  minute  or  two  in  fierce  debate.  Uneducated  Irish 
women  and  negroes  on  the  witness-stand  are  terrors 
to  a  reporter,  and  may  rise  for  a  minute  to  three 
hundred  and  twenty-five  words.  Finally,  my  re 
porter  says,  Phillips  Brooks  habitually  spoke,  when 
preaching,  two  hundred  and  ten  words  to  the  minute." 

"  That,"  said  I,  "  is  all  very  interesting.  As  I 
recall  the  great  bishop,— and  none  knew  him  better, 
—in  e very-day  talk  he  was  not  very  rapid.  I  have 
heard  his  sermon  rate  set  as  high  as  two  hundred  and 
fifty.  This  I  think  is  to  overestimate  the  rate  of  his 
speech." 

"  But,"  said  my  wife,  "  does  not  the  rate  depend 
somewhat  upon  the  size  of  the  words  used  ?  Saxon 
words  are  short  and  those  of  Latin  derivation  long." 

"That  is  well  said,"  remarked  Clayborne,  "and 
as  to  that,  also,  my  reporter  has  something  to  say. 
I  have  it  here,"  and  he  turned  to  his  diary. 

" '  English  speech  is  numerically  rapid  because  of 
the  number  of  little  Anglo-Saxon  words.'  You  see  he 
is  writing  with  relation  to  reporting.  He  adds :  '  I 
incline  to  believe  that  English  is  spoken  at  a  higher 
word-rate  than  other  tongues.' " 

"  I  thought,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  that  French  was 
the  most  rapidly  spoken  language." 


DR.  NORTH  AND   HIS  FRIENDS  317 

"  That  is  a  common  belief/'  said  Clayborne.  "  The 
reporters  say  it  is  not  and  that  it  is  easy  to  report. 
There  is  another  lingual  matter  which  I  have  had 
occasion  to  consider." 

"What  is  that  I"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  simply  what  tongue  is  the  most  condensed. 
If  I  write  out  in  English  a  clear  statement,  will  a 
translation  of  it  into  French,  German,  or  Arabic  be 
longer  or  shorter  than  the  original  statement?" 

Clayborne  thought  Arabic  would  certainly  be  the 
most  brief— that  is,  would  be  the  language  which 
would  use  least  space  in  rendering  the  meaning. 
French  probably  takes  more  space  than  English. 
Concerning  German  we  differed,  but  as  the  rest  of 
our  party  arrived  at  this  moment,  the  question  re 
mained  unsettled. 

As  we  welcomed  the  Vincents,  my  wife  said :  "  We 
have  been  terribly  profound,  and  have  settled  and 
unsettled  a  variety  of  matters;  we  began  about 
bores." 

"  I  am  sure,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  that  at 
times  we  are  all  bores  to  ourselves,  if  not  to  others." 

"  Or  become  bores  as  we  age,"  said  Vincent.  "  That 
is  a  fear  I  have  always  had." 

"  I  hate  people  to  talk  of  being  old,"  said  St.  Clair. 
"  To  me  the  specter  of  age  is  the  most  terrible  of  all 
the  ghosts  that  haunt  the  mind." 

"  He  is  very  near  to  me,"  said  Clayborne.  "  I  do 
not  dread  him,  but,  like  St.  Clair,  I  do  vastly  dread 
pain." 

"  Ah,  that  is  it !  "  said  the  poet.  "  He  comes,  that 
gray  specter,  with  his  hands  behind  his  back.  What 


318  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

is  it  they  hold  ?  Ah,  that  is  what  scares  me !  But 
old  age  I  shall  never  know— never." 

"  And  why  not  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  I  was  once  told  that  it  would  not  be." 

"I  think  that  is  horrible,"  said  Miss  Maywood. 
"  And  you  believe  it  ? " 

"Yes.    I  did.    I  do." 

"  I  should  dislike  to  be  sure  of  what  to-morrow  will 
bring.  A  prophet  must  have  a  sad  life  and  be  a  very 
unpleasant  companion,"  said  my  wife,  laughing.  "  But 
who  predicted  your  early  demise  ? " 

"  Perhaps  I  will  tell  you  after  dinner.  It  is  a  long 
story." 

"  Come,  then,"  said  Clayborne.  "  You  are  to  have 
to-day  all  the  wines  you  desire,  and  one  with  a  story." 

"What!  from  you?"  said  my  wife.  "How  very 
nice ! " 

We  went  in  to  dinner.  Beside  each  plate  was  a 
little  package,  Clayborne's  Christmas  present,  or,  if  it 
were  too  bulky,  a  little  note  explanatory. 

"  There  is  a  letter  for  you,  Mrs.  Anne,"  said  our 
host,  "  and  that  Mexican  opal  you  admired." 

"  How  beautiful !  "  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  holding  up  the 
red  jewel  and  then  putting  it  on  her  finger.  "  I  never 
saw  as  fine  a  stone.  And  the  letter,  may  I  read  it  ? " 

"  Yes,  certainly.     It  came  to-day." 

"  To-day  ? "     She  looked  up  greatly  pleased. 

"What  is  it?"  said  St.  Clair. 

Mrs.  Vincent  laughed  as  she  finished  the  letter. 
"  You  promised  me  for  my  orphans,  Victor,  the  pay 
you  were  to  get  from  Xerxes." 

"I  did." 


DR.   NORTH   AND  HIS  FRIENDS  319 

"  You  defrauded  my  orphans." 

"  I  did.     They  are  overfed,  pampered." 

"  I  thought,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  that  perhaps  Mr. 
Xerxes  Crofter  would  be  more  generous.  I  was  told 
that  he  is  rarely  appealed  to  in  vain.  You  see  the 
result,"  and  laughing,  she  held  up  a  check. 

"  You  wrote  to  Xerxes  !  "  exclaimed  St.  Clair,  who 
had  his  moments  of  credulity  like  the  rest  of  us. 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !  "  cried  Sibyl,  as  she  hid  away  her  own 
present  in  her  pocket.  It  also  was  an  ample  check. 

Vincent,  much  amused,  watched  his  wife. 

"  I  know  better  who  pays  my  debts,"  cried  St.  Clair. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  How  can  I  thank  you, 
Mr.  Clayborne  ?  I  cannot." 

"  You  cannot  in  my  sense.  You  know  what  that 
real  poet,  El-Din-Attar,  says :  "  Who  gives  is  already 
thanked.  Who  thanks  gives." 

"And  I,"  said  my  wife,  "what  am  I  to  say?  What 
a  charming  idea !  "  She  rose  and  went  joyously  around 
the  table,  showing  us  a  small  basket  of  delicate  gold 
wire  with  network  spaces,  just  small  enough  to  hold 
within  it  four  royal  pearls.  They  lay  loose  in  the  basket. 
One  pearl  was  pink,  one  black,  one  a  pale  green,  one 
a  pure  pearl.  The  gold  basket  was  closed  with  a  little 
padlock,  and  a  tiny  key  hung  from  it  by  a  chain. 

"  Don't  look  at  me  in  that  severe  manner,"  said 
Clayborne  to  me.  "  Your  wife  may  wear  the  basket 
on  her  own  necklace.  The  pearls  are  for  my  god 
child  Mary.  Get  used  to  it.  I  shall  add  one  every 
year." 

"  I  surrender,"  said  I.  "  You  are  as  bountiful  as 
Haroun-al-Raschid,  and  as  lavish  as  Xerxes." 


320  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

Meanwhile  my  wife  opened  the  basket  and  rolled 
the  great  pearls  on  to  a  napkin. 

"  It  was  Sibyl's  idea,"  said  the  delighted  giver.  "  She 
said  a  pearl  should  never  be  pierced." 

"  Oh,  no ;  wounded/'  said  Sibyl. 

"  I  have  always  had  that  feeling  myself,"  said  my 
wife,  "  and  now  more  than  ever.  I  shall  feel  that  I 
was  right." 

We,  the  men,  were  all  as  kindly,  if  less  extrava 
gantly,  remembered  with  scarf-pins  in  which  were  set 
antique  intaglios  from  Clayborne's  well-known  collec 
tion  of  gems.  And  so  the  dinner  went  on  merrily, 
with  no  memorable  talk,  but  effervescent  with  the  gay 
humor  of  people  who  had  in  common  the  remem 
brance  of  years  of  friendly  intercourse  and  the  glad 
freedom  of  entire  trust.  While  the  talk  was  flitting 
gaily  from  this  to  that,  I  observed  that  Vincent  was 
unusually  silent.  I,  being  near  him,  spoke  across 
Sibyl,  and  said,  "  Fred,  is  the  opal  heavy  to  bear  ? " 
He  had  an  unexplained  dislike  to  being  given  pres 
ents,  and  a  better-concealed  dislike  to  having  any  one 
but  himself  give  gifts  of  value  to  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  No,"  he  replied.  "  It  was  not  that.  Clayborne  is 
privileged.  I  was  recalling  the  fact  that  three  times 
on  Christmas  day  I  have  seen  strange  incidents." 

"Such  as?" 

"Ah,  two,  the  strangest,  I  cannot  relate.  One  I 
can." 

"  And  what  was  that  ? "  asked  Miss  May  wood,  over 
hearing  us. 

"It  is  worth  telling.  Many  years  ago  a  friend  in 
Carolina  fell  heir  to  a  life-estate  in  a  large  amount  of 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  321 

personal  property  at  the  North.  I  was  trustee  under 
the  will.  He  also  had  a  still  larger  fortune  of  his  own 
in  the  South,  in  cotton  and  rice  lands,  in  slaves,  and 
in  personalty.  He  was  a  violent  partizan,  and  when 
the  war  came  he  and  his  son,  a  spoiled  child,  then  a 
young  man  of  twenty,  entered  the  Confederate  army. 
The  father  was  killed  in  almost  our  last  fight.  When 
the  war  ended  and  things  got  settled,  I  went  to  Charles 
ton,  and  finally  made  over  to  young  Percival  such 
securities  as  were  held  by  me  in  the  North.  A  very 
considerable  personal  property  at  the  South  had  mys 
teriously  vanished.  The  slaves  were  gone.  Only  the 
lands  were  left,  and  these,  as  my  wife  is  too  well 
aware,  had  become  valueless.  Young  Percival  went 
abroad,  and  in  five  years  squandered  all  he  had  except 
the  cotton  and  rice  lands,  which  I  kept  for  him  by 
occasionally  extorting  from  him  enough  to  pay  the 
taxes,  or  by  personally  paying  them  myself.  At  last 
he  wrote  me  that  he  was  on  his  way  home,  penniless." 

By  this  time  every  one  was  listening  to  Vincent, 
whose  wife  said,  as  her  husband  paused :  "  And  he 
was,  Alice,  the  handsomest,  the  most  charming,  and 
most  utterly  reckless  boy  one  could  find." 

"The  boy,"  continued  Vincent,  "was  a  man  of 
twenty-six.  He  had  written  to  me  previously  in  re 
gard  to  a  trunk  of  Revolutionary  papers  in  my  pos 
session.  I  had  brought  them  from  the  South.  When 
his  means  became  low  he  wrote  me  that  a  cousin 
would  give  him  for  these  a  hundred  dollars.  Would 
I  kindly  go  over  them  and  select  any  I  wanted  ?  The 
trunk  was  brought  to  my  house,  and  it  was  on  a 
Christmas  afternoon  that,  as  he  desired,  I  overhauled 


322  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FKIENDS 

the  contents  of  the  chest.  I  found  numberless  let 
ters,  and  sadly  saw  pass  under  my  eye  the  names  of 
soldier,  sailor,  statesman  well  known  in  our  history. 
It  seemed  a  wretched  ending.  Underneath  all  I 
found  a  long  folio  Bible,  the  family  Bible  of  the  Per- 
civals.  It  was  carefully  wrapped  up  in  stout  paper. 
Tied  to  the  back  within  this  cover  were  four  bulky 
envelops,  sealed  and  addressed  to  young  Percival. 
The  book  opened  at  the  parable  of  the  prodigal  son, 
where  the  place  was  marked  by  a  sheet  of  letter- 
paper.  I  began  to  be  curious.  My  old  friend  had 
aided  a  weak  mother  to  ruin  their  son.  The  father 
was  always  eccentric,  and  this,  or  perhaps  his  know 
ing  his  son  too  well,  may  have  led  him  to  leave  what 
here  I  found.  On  the  outer  envelop  of  the  large 
package  tied  fast  to  the  Bible  he  had  written : 
'  Soon  or  late,  my  dear  son,  you  will  find  here  what 
will  make  you  far  richer  than  I  have  ever  been. 
If,  through  wasteful  ways,  you  have  become  poor, 
this  will  make  you  rich  once  more.  Use  better  what 
I  now  give/  Then  I  knew  that  here  was  the  missing 
personal  property  which  had  so  mysteriously  disap 
peared.  I  sat  reflecting  over  this  queer  affair,  as  I 
have  said,  on  Christmas  day,  when,  dramatically  in 
time,  came  young  Percival.  To  cut  short  too  long 
a  tale,  I  set  before  him  the  Bible,  and  drew  his  at 
tention  to  the  envelop  on  which  his  father  had  writ 
ten  his  message.  'Yes/  he  said,  as  he  opened  the 
Bible  at  the  place  marked,  *  yes,  I  have  eaten  of  the 
husks.  I  do  not  deserve  that  my  dear  father  should 
have  thus  cared  for  me/  As  he  spoke  he  hastily  tore 
open  the  envelops.  Here  was  a  nominal  fortune,  oh, 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  323 

a  large  one,  in  Confederate  cotton  bonds,  and  per 
fectly  worthless.  I  saw  the  young  fellow  reel,  and 
caught  him  as  he  fainted.  That  is  all." 

"  What  a  travesty  of  the  '  Heir  of  Lynne  ! ' "  said  St. 
Clair. 

"  But  that  is  not  all,"  cried  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  not,"  said  I. 

"  No.  I,  or  rather  we,  took  care  of  the  scapegrace. 
Anne  fell  in  love  with  him,  and  later  we  found  phos 
phates  on  his  lands.  I  must  say  that  he  is  now  well 
reconstructed  in  mind,  morals,  and  estate,  a  happy 
husband,  and  a  very  watchful  and  rather  severe  papa." 

"  I  envy  your  young  Rebel,"  said  St.  Clair.  "  He 
had  war,  peace,  ill  luck,  disaster,  and  final  good  for 
tune." 

"And  the  permanent  conscience  called  a  wife," 
cried  Alice. 

"  Nice  woman  ? "  asked  the  poet. 

"  Sensible,  handsome,  and  amiable." 

"  The  tale  is  complete.  What  of  the  other  Christ 
mas  stories  ?  " 

Vincent  said  he  could  not  tell  them. 

"  I  think  I  know  one  of  them,"  said  St.  Clair. 

"  It  is  not  possible,"  returned  Vincent. 

"  It  is  the  story  of  the  five  hair-pins." 

"  Victor,"  said  Vincent,  very  gravely,  "  you  know 
it,  I  see ;  but  you  will,  of  course,  keep  it  to  yourself." 

"  I  will." 

"  How  you  could  ever  have  learned  it  is  past  my 
power  to  guess." 

"  A  woman,"  said  St.  Clair. 

"  Well,  well,"  murmured  Vincent. 


324  BE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FKIENDS 

"  And  shall  no  one  hear  it  ? "  asked  Sibyl.  "  Five 
hair-pins ! " 

"No  one,"  said  St.  Glair. 

Then  again  the  talk  became  gay  and  general. 

When  we  came  to  the  end  of  a  pleasant  hour  and 
a  half,  the  cloth  was  removed,  and  the  butler  set  on 
the  table  two  decanters  of  old  Madeira. 

"  A  grape-juice,"  said  our  host,  as  he  passed  the 
wine  to  left.  After  it  had  gone  round  the  table  he 
added  in  his  old-fashioned  way :  "  Absent  friends  and 
your  own  good  selves. 

"  Here,  next,"  he  said,  "  is  the  wine  with  a  story. 
It  is  the  Rose  Madeira,  Vincent." 

"  Indeed !  I  fear  your  ancient  wines  j  but  I  must 
taste  this.  It  is  not  quite  perfect,  Clayborne,— on  its 
last  legs,  as  our  fathers  used  to  say,— and  yet  it  is 
still  very  fine.  How  old  is  it  ? " 

"  It  was  put  in  demijohn  in  1798,  and  was  before 
that  in  cask.  You  can  detect  the  taste  of  the  wood. 
You  must  all  of  you  admit  that  I  rarely  tell  stories, 
but-" 

"Well,"  interrupted  St.  Glair,  "for  an  historian, 
that  is  a  crammer." 

"  Do  not  mind  him,"  said  my  wife.  "  Please  to 
go  on." 

"  Vincent  has  heard  it.  It  is  a  family  legend.  My 
great-uncle  Rupert  commanded  the  privateer  Rose, 
out  of  New  London.  She  was  lucky,  and  during  a 
West  Indian  cruise  sent  home  several  prizes,  from 
one  of  which  she  supplied  herself  with  provisions  and 
several  hogsheads  of  the  wine  you  are  now  drinking. 
Soon  after,  while  off  Cape  Hatteras,  she  was  taken  in 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  325 

a  calm  by  his  Majesty's  frigate  Olympia.  It  was  a 
boat  attack,  and  only  succeeded  after  one  disastrous 
failure.  In  the  second  effort  my  uncle  was  cut  on 
the  head,  but  not  severely  hurt,  and  had  also  a 
wound  in  his  left  arm,  a  rather  bad  flesh-wound  from 
a  cutlass.  He  had  so  often  declared  he  would  blow 
up  his  ship  rather  than  surrender,  that  when,  as  his 
flag  came  down,  he  turned  to  run  below,  his  men 
seized  him  and  prevented  him  from  effecting  his  pur 
pose.  A  prize  crew  of  eight  men,  and  a  lieutenant  by 
the  name  of  Tregarthen,  were  put  on  the  Rose.  Three 
of  the  old  crew  were  also  kept  to  assist.  My  uncle 
seemed  to  suffer  much.  He  was  also  left  on  the  prize. 
As  he  sat  dejected  on  the  deck,  no  one  disturbed  him. 
The  Rose  received  orders  to  repair  damages,  and  then 
to  make  sail  for  New  York.  As  the  Olympia  was 
about  to  continue  her  cruise  in  the  West  Indies,  she 
sent  aboard  the  Rose  two  prisoners,  taken  off  a  Yankee 
merchant  ship  which  the  Olympia  had  captured  a 
week  before.  At  dusk  my  uncle  Rupert,  being  for 
the  time  free  and  on  deck,  saw,  to  his  amazement,  Mr. 
Swan  wick  and  his  daughter  Margaret  come  up  the 
side.  He  kept  away  from  them,  and,  complaining  of 
his  wounds,  went  below  to  have  them  dressed.  At 
night  the  wind  failed,  and  again  a  dead  calm  came 
on.  This  lasted  two  days.  In  the  dusk  that  night 
my  uncle  contrived  to  talk  ten  minutes  to  Margaret. 
He  told  her  that  she  and  her  father  were  to  seem 
total  strangers  to  him.  He  was  to  give  them 
reason  to  complain  of  him  to  the  British  lieutenant  j 
also  on  no  account,  and  under  no  circumstances,  were 
she  and  her  father  to  leave  the  Rose.  Her  father  was 

22 


326  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

to  say  as  much  to  the  three  Yankees  left  to  help  the 
prize  crew.  Having  thus  arranged  matters,  Uncle 
Rupert  went  mad.  He  did  it  well.  He  fell  into  a 
melancholy,  and  then  at  intervals  became  restless 
and  excited.  He  declared  he  was  George,  the  king. 
He  tried  to  kiss  Margaret,  and  when  threatened 
with  irons  sat  down  and  sobbed.  After  this  he  wan 
dered  about,  a  harmless  lunatic,  watched  the  repairs 
completed,  and  saw  the  lieutenant  making  brisk  sailor 
love  to  the  lady.  On  the  third  day  a  smart  breeze 
sprang  up,  and  just  before  noon  they  got  under  way. 
At  this  time  the  lieutenant  went  below  to  get  his 
transit  instrument.  Uncle  Rupert,  loudly  lamenting 
his  fate,  slipped  away  down  the  other  hatchway.  A 
minute  later  a  wild  cry  was  heard,  and  two  or  three 
men  ran  below  to  see  the  cause.  Instantly  they 
came  up  pale  with  fright,  and  told  the  lieutenant 
what  they  had  seen.  He  in  turn  ran  below.  The 
door  of  the  powder-room  was  open.  Uncle  Rupert 
had  concealed  on  his  person  a  duplicate  key.  To  the 
horror  of  the  lieutenant,  there  was  Uncle  Rupert  in 
the  magazine,  seated  on  a  keg  and  laughing  mania 
cally.  A  second  keg  stood  open  beside  him.  He  held 
in  his  hand  a  dry  rope,  the  end  of  which  was  lighted 
and  smoldering.  The  lieutenant  fell  back  with  an 
oath.  '  Ho,  ho  ! ;  yells  Rupert,  with  his  watch  on  his 
knee.  'Hurrah !  Up  you  go  !  Got  half  an  hour  to 
live !  King  George  forever !  The  Union  Jack  7s 
going  to  heaven !  Two  minutes  gone.  i  The  lieu 
tenant  talked,  implored,  cursed.  'Five  minutes 
gone,'  cried  Rupert.  The  officer  advanced,  cutlass  in 
hand.  l  One  step  nearer  and  up  we  go/  cried  Uncle 


t>R.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  327 

Rupert.  '  Say  your  prayers,  and  be  quick/  and  he  blew 
the  match  to  a  red  heat.  The  officer  fled.  On  deck 
there  was  mutiny.  The  man-of-war's-men  were  already 
in  a  boat  fifty  feet  away.  Miss  Swanwick  had  fainted. 
She  did  it  well.  The  distracted  officer  ordered  the 
Yankees  to  get  out  another  boat.  He  would  stay  with 
the  ship.  He  went  to  get  his  pistols,  resolute  to  try 
conclusions  with  the  madman.  As  he  turned,  Swan- 
wick  pinioned  him,  and  in  a  moment  was  his  master. 
He  was  a  powerful  man  even  &t  fifty.  A  sailor  tied 
the  officer's  legs  together.  Miss  Margaret,  promptly 
recovering,  ran  below.  Up  came  Rupert.  '  Ready 
about,  boys/  he  cried.  l  Take  the  helm,  my  man,  and 
quick.7  After  one  or  two  rapid  orders  he  turned  to 
the  lieutenant.  l  Lord,  sir !  did  you  think  I  would 
blow  up  Miss  Swanwick?  We  have  been  engaged 
for  a  year.'  In  three  days  they  were  lying  off  Phila 
delphia.  Margaret  Swanwick's  picture  is  in  the  hall, 
as  you  know.  Of  course  Uncle  Rupert  married  her. 
I  heard  that  story  when  I  was  a  boy." 

"  For  a  historian,"  said  St.  Clair,  "  it  was  cleverly 
told.  I  could  improve  upon  it." 

"  No  one  could,"  cried  Sibyl. 

"  Another  glass  ? "  asked  Clayborne.  "  No  ?  Well, 
then,  let  us  smoke." 

We  lingered  in  the  hall  to  see  if  Margaret  Swan- 
wick  had  the  face  heroic ;  but,  as  there  was  a  differ 
ence  of  opinion,  we  deserted  her  for  the  company  of 
tobacco,  and  followed  Clayborne.  As  we  went  in, 
I  said  to  him :  "  For  a  test  of  what  people  call  nerve, 
the  case  of  a  madman  below  you  in  a  powder-maga 
zine  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired." 


328  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  What  was  that  officer's  duty  ? "  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  It  was  plain,"  said  Vincent.  "  He  should  have 
armed  himself,  got  out  boats,  provisioned  them,  put 
every  one  in  them,  sent  them  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away,  and  then  gone  down  and  captured  the  madman, 
or  have  gone  to  death  with  honor." 

Said  Mrs.  Vincent:  "If  your  uncle  believed  the  woman 
he  loved  to  be  still  on  the  deck,  would  he  have  blown 
up  the  ship?  He  told  the  lieutenant  that  he  would 
not,  or  said  something  like  that." 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  said  Clayborne.  "  His  duty  was 
always  first  with  him.  I  incline  to  think  he  would  have 
been  capable  of  this  or  any  other  madness  in  such  a 
moment." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent  j  "  you  are  wrong.  No 
man  would  do  that." 

"A  sharp  test,"  said  I.  "What  became  of  the 
lieutenant  ? " 

"  Of  course  the  story  got  out.  After  he  was  ex 
changed  he  was  a  good  deal  ridiculed,  and  at  last  shot 
himself." 

"  That  was  rather  illogical,"  said  my  wife. 

"  And  I,"  cried  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  would  have  jumped 
into  the  first  boat." 

"  You  would  not,  Anne,"  said  my  wife. 

Said  Sibyl :  "  Does  any  one  know  what  he  would  do 
at  such  a  time  ? " 

"  I  do  not,"  said  St.  Clair. 

"  He  should,"  said  Vincent,  "  either  have  done  as  I 
just  now  suggested,  or  have  taken  the  risk  of  attack 
ing  the  man  when  he  first  saw  him.  The  pistols 
would  not  have  helped  the  matter." 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  329 

Said  Clayborne :  "I  should  have  taken  the  boats 
and  the  crew  and  Miss  Swanwick,  and  left  the  man 
I  believed  to  be  insane  to  do  what  he  pleased.  Cour 
age  which  wins  nothing  material  and  saves  nothing 
does  not  appeal  to  me." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Sibyl,  a  trifle  disappointed  in  her 
friend,  "it  saves  honor,  it  sets  example.  It  is  not 
heroic;  it  is  merely  dutiful,  the  man's  business. 
Like  a  doctor's,  it  is  perilous.  It  is  accepted  with  all 
its  risks.  Oh,  I  am  ashamed  for  that  man." 

"  Yes,  I  think  on  the  whole  you  are  right,"  said 
Clayborne.  "  On  reflection,  you  are  right." 

"  What,"  said  Vincent,  as  he  sat  down,  "  Miss  May- 
wood  says  of  the  value  of  high  conduct  as  an  exam 
ple  probably  never  occurs  to  men  at  these  moments. 
I  doubt  if  a  man  feels  the  urgency  of  motives  in 
moments  of  peril,  of  need  for  high  conduct,  quick 
decision,  unflinching  courage.  The  motives  are  pre 
paratory,  what  Owen  calls  chronic.  They  preact  on 
character  to  create  habits.  The  occasion  comes,  and 
then  the  disciplined  mind  is,  without  thought,  impera 
tively  obedient  to  duty." 

"  But,"  said  my  wife,  "  example  does  help ;  it  is 
motive." 

"  Certainly,"  I  said,  "  but  not  from  being  recalled 
to  mind  at  a  moment  of  danger.  It  has  only  a  pre 
parative  value,  as  Vincent  said.  Of  course  an  exam 
ple  set  to  others  at  the  instant  of  peril  is  quite 
another  thing." 

"  No  doubt  that  is  true,"  said  Clayborne,"  and  when 
people  are  continually  hearing  of  acts  of  courage  it 
does  have  educational  value.  In  our  quiet  modern 


330  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

life  we  have  not  the  constant  risks  which  made  battle 
and  personal  conflict  common  in  the  life  of  wilder 
days  j  and  yet  there  is  far  more  heroism  of  the  best 
kind  than  in  days  when  altruistic  self-devotion  had 
less  motive  power  than  it  has  now.  Look  at  the 
papers  if  you  doubt  me.'7 

"  You  are  right,"  said  my  wife,  who  was  apt  to  be  a 
silent  listener  to  our  debates.  "If  we  were  to  keep 
for  a  year  clippings  from  the  papers  as  to  all  the 
cases  of  gallant  attempts  at  rescue,  we  should  see  how 
much  nobler  is  our  life  than  that  of  a  day  which 
some  appear  to  regret." 

"  Very  true,"  said  Clayborne.  "  I  saw  in  one  week 
mention  of  two  instances  of  boys  taking  risks  to  save 
drowning  comrades.  Here — I  kept  it — is  a  boy  of 
eight  who  is  badly  burned  in  saving  an  infant.  Here 
is  a  laboring  man  who  is  injured  in  stopping  a  runa 
way.  It  is  constant ;  we  hardly  pause  to  notice  it. 
Not  long  ago  we  talked  over  this  very  matter.  Sibyl 
cut  out  for  me  the  paragraphs  for  a  week.  There  is 
also  the  familiar  case  of  an  engineer  who  could  have 
deserted  his  engine  and  saved  his  own  life.  I  agree 
that  at  the  moment  we  act  almost  mechanically.  The 
character-building  accumulation  of  motives  is  like 
loading  a  gun  •  occasion  pulls  the  trigger." 

Sibyl  had  been  listening  very  intently.  Now  she 
said :  "  I  do  not  think  you  allow  enough  for  the  ra 
pidity  of  thought  in  time  of  peril.  A  man  thinks 
fast  then." 

"But,"  said  Vincent,  "we  are  now  dealing  only 
with  cases  of  need  for  instant  decision.  He  is  alone, 
or  in  the  loneliness  of  command,  assured  that  death 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  331 

is  in  his  path.  I  am  sure  that  one  kind  of  man  then 
acts  with  the  decisiveness  of  a  mechanism.  Do  you 
suppose  motives  as  to  duty  or  what  men  might  say  for 
or  against  him  were  in  Cushing's  mind  when  he  drove 
that  launch  through  darkness  against  the  Albemarle  f 
Or  does  the  boy  think  as  he  plunges  in  to  save  a  com 
rade  ?  He  is  the  moral  slave  of  a  despotic  past.  To 
pause  and  reflect  is  often  fatal  to  noble  action." 

"  I  have  listened  with  interest/'  said  I.  "  Let  me 
add  a  word.  Example  has  its  largest  recognized  val 
ues  in  the  chronic  affairs  of  life.  I  see  this  in  sick 
ness.  A  man  says,  i  What  So-and-so  bore  patiently, 
I  can  bear.'  If  the  influence  of  example  be  myste 
rious,  it  is  nevertheless  positive." 

"  Thank  you/'  said  Sibyl,  quietly.  "  We  talked  of 
this  long  ago." 

There  was  a  momentary  silence,  then  Mrs.  Vincent 
said :  "  What  a  strange  thing  is  the  passing  of  an 
example  from  life  to  life  !  How  endless  it  may  be  !  " 

"It  has,"  said  I,  "been  compared  to  the  endless 
ness  of  physical  force." 

"  But  physical  force  must  at  last  cease  to  be  per 
ceptible,"  said  Vincent,  "whereas  example  is  rein 
forced  by  use,  and  if  to-day  feeble  in  effect,  to-morrow 
it  becomes  potent." 

"  That  gives  one/'  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  a  strong 
sense  of  the  reality  of  character." 

"  I  hate  to  think,"  said  St.  Clair,  "  of  these  unknown 
possibilities.  Disease  and  pain  are  awful  shadows. 
Let  us  think  of  them  no  more.  Owen  says  they  are 
our  physical  whips.  What  stuff !  I  was  once  ill.  It 
made  me  angry.  I  am  glad  it  did  me  no  good," 


332  DK.   NOETH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS 

"  Then  tell  us  your  story/7  said  I.  "  You  are  a 
very  sensitive  young  man,  and  sometimes  you  talk 
fine  nonsense." 

"  But  when  I  come  to  think  it  over  my  story  is  by 
no  means  gay.  My  dear  Mrs.  Vincent  hates  snakes  j 
it  is  about  snakes." 

"  I  abhor  them,"  said  this  lady. 

"  And  I,"  said  my  wife. 

"  And  I,"  said  Clayborne  j  "  but  go  on." 

Mrs.  Vincent,  drawing  nearer  to  the  fire,  smiled  as 
she  remarked :  "  If  I  may  be  well  warmed  I  shall  not 
mind.  I  can  stand  anything  if  I  am  warm." 

St.  Clair  rose  as  she  spoke,  and  stood  beside  the 
ample  hearth.  He  was,  of  course,  in  simple  evening 
dress,  but  it  became  in  a  wonderful  way, his  rich  color 
and  the  fine  carriage  of  his  head.  For  some  reason 
he  was  more  than  commonly  serious.  He  hesitated  a 
moment,  and  then  said :  "  It  is  rather  a  grim  story. 
It  will  seem  incredible.  I  beg  to  ask  that  I  be  not 
questioned  about  it.  I— '  and  again  he  paused. 
"  There  are  on  earth  no  other  people  to  whom  I 
would  tell  it.  If  any  one,  if  Miss  Maywood,  per 
haps,  be  in  doubt,  for  it  is  rather  thrilling,  I  shall  not 
tell  it." 

"It  is  not  stories,  true  or  false,  that  I  fear,"  said 
Sibyl.  "  Please  to  go  on." 

"Very  good."  As  he  spoke,  he  threw  in  the  fire 
the  cigar  he  had  just  lighted.  Then  for  a  full  half- 
minute  we  sat  quiet,  respecting  his  silence,  as  he  stood 
leaning  against  the  mantel  and  facing  us. 

"  You  know  that  I  spent  a  year  in  India.  I  saw 
while  there  much  of  the  occult  science,  or,  if  you  like, 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  333 

arts  of  the  Hindoo.  Some  of  it  is  very  absurd ;  some 
of  it  is — well — is  not.  I  learned  Hindoostanee  and 
certain  dialects,  and  because  I  was  not  English  was 
enabled  to  see  much  that  is  jealously  hidden  from 
the  conquering  race. 

11 1  was  very  curious  as  to  what  is  known— I  trans 
late  crudely— as  the  Temple  School  of  the  Moralities. 
Where  it  was,  and  how  I  came  to  see  it,  I  am  unwill 
ing  to  state.  Do  not  let  that  make  you  distrust  my 
story.  On  one  of  the  lower  foot-hills  of  the  Himalayas 
is  a  temple  excavated  out  of  the  rock.  There  are 
others  which  are  better  known.  Around  a  vast  court 
are  gigantic  figures  of  Vishnu  in  his  many  incarna 
tions.  Between  these  are  cells  cut  deep  into  the  rock. 
In  each  is  a  man  who  has  come  to  ask  help  of  the  god 
that  he  may  be  freed  from  some  form  of  immorality. 
I  have  known  three  Europeans  who  resorted  to  this 
place.  These  men  remained  without  food  in  their  cells 
all  day  until  set  of  sun.  At  fixed  intervals  the  priests 
entered  these  cells  and,  touching  each  man  on  the 
forehead  and  on  the  lips,  said, t  What  was,  is  not.  Let 
thy  sin  be  starved,  lest  sorrow  be  fed.'  At  evening, 
when  it  grew  dark,  food  was  brought,  usually  fruit,  or 
grain  food  such  as  rice.  At  midnight  each  man  was 
given  a  drug  which,  he  was  told,— and  I  believe  it,— 
had  power  to  influence  morally  him  who  took  it.  In 
a  few  minutes  it  caused  sleep.  At  morning  the  man 
awoke  with  the  soul  of  a  little  child;  the  thief  was 
honest,  the  violent  gentle,  the  sensual  pure  in  heart." 

Clayborne  rolled  about  in  his  chair,  an  uneasy  lis 
tener.  He  had  no  power  to  surrender  to  a  story.  He 
said:  "What  stuff,  Victor!  The  gist  of  it  is  stolen 


334  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

bodily  out  of  All  Omar.  We  did  not  bargain  for  a 
half -hour  of  fairy-tales." 

I  never  had  seen  St.  Clair  as  he  was  that  evening. 
He  flushed  a  little  and  remained  standing,  with  an 
elbow  on  the  mantel,  his  cheek  on  his  hand.  "  Dear 
old  friend,"  he  said  very  quietly,  "  this  is  a  true  story 
out  of  a  man's  life,  told  for  friends  alone.  I  know 
the  verse  you  mean.  Wait  and  hear  me  out." 

"  I  can  wait/'  said  Clayborne,  and  fell  back  sub 
missive. 

"  One  word,  Victor,"  said  I.  "  This  does  not  seem 
to  me  altogether  as  absurd  as  it  does  to  Clayborne. 
We  of  the  West  know  as  yet  of  no  drug  which  makes 
men  better.  Alcohol,  opium,  chloral,  and,  worse  than 
these,  cocaine  and  hashish,  all  ruin  the  morals  of  men 
and  make  them  cruel,  brutal,  sensual,  liars,  and  some 
times  insane.  Why  there  may  not  be  some  drugs  which 
do  the  reverse  I  cannot  see.  I  took  mescal  once,  and 
among  its  splendid  dreams  of  unearthly  color  I  had 
a  gentle  desire  to  propitiate  every  one,  to  be  pleasant 
and  agreeable.  This  did  not  last  long,  and  next  day 
I  found  I  had  brought  out  of  fairyland  a  furious 
headache  and  no  permanent  gain  in  amiability." 

"  Thank  you,  Owen,"  said  St.  Clair.  "  But  now  let 
me  go  on  without  comment.  Pardon  me ;  you  have 
not  done  ? " 

"A  word  more,"  said  I.  "I  have  taken  experi 
mentally  in  my  time  a  number  of  these  drugs,  and 
none  of  them  appeared  to  me  to  have  any  immediate 
moral  influence.  I,  of  course,  do  not  now  include 
alcohol.  Of  their  bad  influence,  when  taken  often  or 
continuously,  I  am  sure  j  but  quite  possibly  the  ten- 


DR.   NORTH   AND    HIS   FRIENDS  335 

dency  of  some  of  them  to  impair  the  moral  nature 
may  be  indirect.  It  varies  with  men  and  even  with 
races.  I  have  by  no  means  said  all  that  may  be  said. 
But  now,  Victor,  let  us  hear  the  rest  of  your  story." 

"  I  have  seen,"  he  said,  "  the  results  of  this  treat 
ment,  and  I  cannot  doubt  its  value  j  but  it  is  not  of 
this  I  meant  to  speak  at  length. 

"  After  I  had  spent  a  month  with  these  people  I 
told  a  priest  that  I  wanted  to  see  the  Cobra  City.  He 
said  no  European  had  seen  it,  and  of  the  few  natives 
who  had  ventured  within  it,  not  one  in  a  hundred  had 
returned.  I  was  to  think  of  it  for  a  week  and  come 
to  him  again.  He  said  there  are  men  whom  the  cobra 
obeys  and  fears,  but  never  were  these  white  men  or 
Christians. 

"  I  went  away,  and  a  week  later  asked  him  to  enter 
my  tent.  I  threw  apart  the  tent  folds,  and  he  went  in. 
He  saw  a  large  daboia  lying  on  my  couch.  He  re 
coiled,  crying  out,  l  It  is  death,  sure  death !  Come 
away.  It  will  come  after  us ' ;  for  this  is  the  serpent 
men  most  fear,  since  it  alone  follows  and  attacks,  and 
does  not,  like  the  cobra,  merely  await  and  resent 
hostile  approach.  He  said,  l  Where  did  it  come 
from V  'I  brought  it  from  the  woods.  See,'  I  said. 
I  went  to  the  couch  and  quietly  picked  up  the  great 
snake.  As  the  priest  fell  back  in  fear  I  carried  the 
serpent  out  and,  setting  it  free,  saw  it  glide  into  the 
jungle. 

"He  stood  still,  amazed,  and  then  said,  'You 
must  be-  of  the  blood  of  Aissah.  You  shall  see  the 
City  of  the  Cobra;  but  once  in  it  you  must  pass 
through,  and  when  you  have  come  out  you  will  have 


336  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

knowledge  you  had  not;  for  they  who  touch  death 
grow  wise.  Will  you  go  ? '  I  said,  t  Certainly.'  l  Then 
I  shall  come  for  you  at  midnight;  but  have  written 
for  those  dear  to  you  a  letter,  because  you  may  not 
return.' 

"  At  twelve  he  came.  l  You  are  unarmed  ? '  I  said, 
1  Yes/  and  followed  him  up  the  mountain  behind  the 
temple.  After  an  hour's  walk  we  came  to  a  small 
valley.  At  the  far  end  I  saw  dimly,  as  we  approached, 
that  on  each  side  of  what  we  would  call  a  canon 
were  gigantic  figures  hewn  out  of  rock.  'Here,'  he 
said,  l  you  must  wait  until  the  first  faint  light  of  dawn 
is  seen.  Then  you  will  take  off  your  shoes,  and  with 
bare  feet  and  bare  head  enter.  Yonder  is  the  great 
street  of  the  cobras.  Do  not  dare  to  turn  back.  I 
shall  wait  for  you  at  the  other  gate.  It  is  not  too 
late  to  refuse.'  I  replied  by  taking  off  my  shoes 
and  socks  and  giving  them  to  him,  with  my  pith 
helmet. 

"  An  hour  passed  by  after  he  left  me.  Then  I  saw 
the  first  gleam  of  dawn  on  a  distant  peak.  I  turned 
and  walked  up  the  incline  and  stood  between  the 
stone  monsters,  hearing  beyond  me  a  faint  noise 
like  the  stir  of  leaves  in  the  wind  or  the  hum  of 
rainfall.  I  went  on  slowly.  It  was  still  dusk  below. 
Of  a  sudden  it  was  pale  morning  overhead.  Then  I 
saw.  The  valley  was  perhaps  a  hundred  yards  wide. 
It  was  shut  in  by  rocky  boundaries  so  high  that  the 
day  was  long  in  finding  its  depth.  The  canon  sloped 
upward,  narrowing.  I  stood  still  a  moment.  It  was 
peopled ;  by  degrees  I  made  them  out,  an  army  of 
serpents,  gray,  inert  forms  pendent  from  bough  or 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  337 

rock-ledge,  slowly  moving  loops,  or  on  the  ground 
gray  tangles  of  lazily  stirring,  intricate  coils. 

"  I  went  on,  seeing  the  light  increase.  I  seemed 
to  attract  no  notice.  Then  in  the  dim  haze,  on  the 
rock  floor,  some  few  feet  away  I  saw !  Across  my 
path  were  some  scores  of  the  noblest  cobras  I  have 
ever  beheld.  They  stood  erect,  their  heads  some  two  or 
three  feet  above  their  anchoring  coils.  Between  the 
spectacle-like  markings  of  their  wide-spread  mantles 
the  fierce  little  head  with  the  dull  eyes  stood  ready. 
They  were  in  clusters,  as  it  were,  but  thick  across  my 
way.  The  cobra  is  apt  to  sway  from  side  to  side,  and 
now  the  hedge  of  poison-bearers  swung  thus  to  and 
fro,  as  if  moved  by  some  monotonous  mechanism. 
This  pendulum-like  marking  of  what  were  really 
quite  regular  fractions  of  time  somehow  upset  me. 
How  often  was  it  in  the  minute  ?  How  often  ?  It  was 
noiseless  and  regular,  and  seemed  to  murmur, l  Death 
and  life,  death  and  life.' 

"  I  stood  still  a  moment,  feeling  that  I  was  losing  in 
telligent  self-control.  For  a  moment  my  heart  failed 
me.  On  one  side  of  my  path  lay  the  skeleton  of  a 
man.  I  half  turned  to  go  back,  when,  as  if  this  were 
a  signal,  all  the  slowly  gliding  or  hanging  or  inertly 
coiled  tangles  acquired  individuality,  and  came,  not 
swiftly,  but  as  if  deliberately,  toward  me,  gray,  sinu 
ous  lines,  convergent.  I  knew  that  I  must  go  on.  I 
knew  that  I  must  do  more.  In  the  mid-path  before 
me  stood,  high  above  its  coil,  a  great  serpent.  It 
stayed,  attentive.  Before  this  they  had  moved  away 
as  I  advanced ;  now  I  must  yield  the  path  or  they.  I 
set  on  him  unwinking  eyes,  and,  bending,  took  the 


338  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

cobra  by  the  neck.  He  made  no  resistance,  but,  coil 
ing  around  my  arm,  lay  with  his  head  on  my  out 
stretched  palm,  moveless. 

"  I  do  not  explain  it  j  but  now  I  felt  reassured  and 
walked  fearlessly  up  to  the  hedge  of  serpents.  They 
slid  away  to  right  and  left.  I  went  past  this  thicket 
of  death  j  and  still  the  light  increased,  so  that  I  saw 
where,  on  one  side,  a  great  cleft  divided  the  rock  wall. 
The  serpents  were  fewer  and  moved  more  swiftly  as  I 
went  on,  shuddering  if  my  bare  feet  chanced  to  tread 
on  a  round  bit  of  branch  or  a  cold  rolling  stone.  Sud 
denly  I  heard  faint  humming  noises.  Something  was 
disturbing  this  deathful  assembly.  In  the  dark  of  the 
rock  cleavage,  high  to  left,  I  saw  two  shining  eyes. 
Ah,  but  I  knew  them  well.  I  stood  still,  understand 
ing  that  the  tiger  must  first  leap  into  the  canon  and 
then  would  turn  on  me.  For  a  moment  he  made  no 
noise.  Then  I  heard  his  roar  and  saw  the  splendid 
terror  in  mid-air,  and  then  on  the  ground,  twenty  feet 
away.  As  he  gathered  himself,  I  heard  a  wild  cry,  and 
again  a  roar  which  echoed  thunderous.  He  turned, 
terrible  in  his  anguish.  I  saw  a  hundred  gray  death- 
whips  strike  and  sting.  He  stood  up  on  his  strong 
hind  legs,  fell  back,  rose  and  smote,  here,  there,  rolled 
convulsed  with  pain,  tore  them  with  his  claws,  bit 
them  in  terror  unknown  before  to  this  fierce  life 
of  unconquered  vigor.  It  was  vain  against  these 
noiseless,  multiplied,  lethal  onsets.  He  rose  and 
fell  again  convulsed,  his  skin  quivering  in  the  last 
agony.  The  great  cat  was  dead.  Slowly  the  pallid, 
sinuous  things,  like  live  ropes,  slid  away,  and  stillness 
fell  on  me  and  on  the  valley. 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  339 

"  Despite  the  precious  increase  of  morning  light  the 
depth  of  the  canon  still  left  it  in  twilight  obscurity.  I 
saw  as  I  went  on  that  the  rocks  were  hollowed  into 
deep  caves  on  each  side,  and  that  between  the  rock 
walls  I  was  walking  barefooted  on  a  narrowing  path. 
I  moved  slowly  and  carefully  with  chilled  feet,  fearing 
lest  I  might  tread  on  some  one  of  these  languid  coils 
and  convert  it  on  the  instant  into  a  swift  giver  of  death. 
The  walls  of  rock  were  here  about  sixty  feet  apart,  and 
in  their  dim  grayness  were  many  blacknesses.  These 
were  caves,  out  of  which  now  rolled,  with  slow  disen 
tangling  writhings,  unnumbered  cobras.  They  came 
forth  from  crevices  and  hung  motionless  from  bush 
and  rock  shelf.  I  was  in  the  heart  of  the  Cobra  City, 
and,  like  as  the  folk  of  a  town  come  forth  to  see  a 
stranger,  came  those  terrible  citizens.  One  single 
beautiful  cobra  in  his  pride  of  power  with  his  mantle 
spread  is  a  splendid  fear.  Here  is  absolute,  unreason 
ing  courage.  Here  is  death,  swift,  sure,  implacable, 
without  remedy.  Around  me  were  thousands.  Many 
came  close  to  me  as  if  curious,  following  me  with 
swaying  heads,  the  wide  neck  cloak,  shrinking  or  agi 
tated  as  it  was  spread  wide  when  angry  doubt  dwelt 
in  those  cold,  pitiless  eyes.  Some  touched  my  bare 
feet  5  some  retired  slowly,  crawling  back  to  their 
house  caves ;  others  stood  in  tall  ranks  as  I  passed, 
their  small  heads  swinging  to  and  fro  on  a  level  with 
my  waist,  for  cobras  like  these  had  I  never  seen  in 
cave  or  jungle. 

"  Meanwhile  I  grew  cold.  I  do  not  think  it  was  with 
earthly  fear.  If  there  be  some  unnamed  emotion 
which  is  such  terror  as  may  come  to  a  man  in  another 


340  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

world  of  judgment,  I  had  it.  The  sleek,  slowly  mov 
ing  folds  of  the  cobra  stirred  about  my  arm,  and  the 
small,  deathful  head  moved  uneasily.  If  in  what  I 
must  call  the  agony  of  a  too  long  and  enfeebling 
emotion  I  should  let  go  my  grasp,  release  it,  I  was  lost. 
That  I  knew.  The  light  increased,  the  canon  nar 
rowed,  the  tall  death-givers  folded  their  war  cloaks 
and  slowly  retired  to  cave  and  crevice.  I  knelt  down 
and  set  free  my  hostage,  caressing  with  my  hand  the 
neck  and  head.  It  crawled  away  slowly,  and  I  was 
alone. 

"  Before  me  lay  a  dark  cavern.  It  was  the  only 
exit.  To  return  was  to  die.  I  went  on  in  absolute  dark 
ness.  Suddenly  I  stood  still.  The  pathway  went  down 
ward.  I  groped  my  way  with  outstretched  hands  and 
cautious  feet.  The  darkness  was  as  complete  as  dark 
ness  ever  can  be.  At  last  I  felt  that  I  was  again  los 
ing  self-control.  I  had  been  in  a  state  of  perilous 
tension.  I  saw  huge  shapes  of  gigantic  serpents 
swaying  over  me.  Then  I  heard  the  familiar  rattle 
of  our  own  crotalus.  Upon  this  I  used  my  judgment 
as  one  does  in  a  dream,  saying,  '  Nonsense.  In  Hiii- 
doostan  !  There  are  no  rattlesnakes  here.'  But  then 
a  vast  serpent  towered  over  me  like  a  column,  and 
swayed  and  drew  back  his  head  till  I  saw  the  fangs 
play  in  the  upper  jaw— pure  phantoms  all.  I  stag 
gered  forward,  fell,  crawled  a  little  way,  and  fell  once 
more ;  and  this  was  all  I  remember. 

"  When  I  revived  I  was  lying  in  the  sun,  my  head  on 
the  priest's  lap.  'What  was  it  I  saw!'  said  I.  'I 
know  not/  he  said.  i  You  went  by  unharmed.  You 
are  snake-wise.  You  will  walk  unhurt  on  the  viper 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  341 

and  through  the  nests  of  the  daboia.  If  you  have  a 
foe,  a  man  you  would  kill,  a  woman  who  has  slighted 
you,  you  have  now  only  to  go  to  the  opening  into 
their  city  and  ask  help.  There  will  come  forth  nine 
who  will  go  by  jungle  and  marsh  and  byways  till 
they  find  the  foe  of  your  father's  son.  For  him 
and  his  wife  and  his  child  they  will  abide  until  the 
thing  is  ended;  and  if  one  cobra  be  left  he  will 
come  to  you,  and,  seeing  him,  you  will  need  no 
more  news  of  your  foe,  for  the  thing  will  have 
been  done  by  those  who  turn  not  back.  A  thought 
was  given  you  in  the  darkness,  yes,  something  more 
convincing  than  thought.'  It  was  true.  I  had  a  defi 
nite  sense  of  a  vast  and  sudden  outflow  of  life,  as  of 
having  spent  swiftly  in  an  hour  years  of  existence.  It 
was  as  if  from  a  book  you  are  reading  unread  chapters 
are  torn.  '  This  you  have  learned/  he  said, l  and  what 
else  ? '  i  That  I  cannot,  may  not,  say.'  '  The  sahib  is 
right.  He  is  prudent,  as  one  of  a  sudden  grown  older 
should  be.'  Now  you  know  why  I  shall  not  live  to  be 
old.  And,  dear  friends,  all  this  poor  priest's  talk,  for 
you  nonsense,  is  but  a  part  of  the  cobra  beliefs  with 
which  India  is. filled;  but  as  to  the  rest,  believe  it  or 
not  as  you  like.  I  have  never  before  been  willing  to 
speak  of  it.  I  never  shall  again.  Give  me  a  cigar, 
Clayborne,  and  some  brandy,  please."  He  sat  down 
and  wiped  his  forehead. 

Whether  this  was  a  true  story  or  an  adventure  re 
lated  with  additions,  or  but  a  dream  vividly  told,  we 
never  knew.  St.  Clair  said,  as  he  took  his  seat,  "  Take 
it  as  you  please.  It  is  true."  At  all  events,  the  effect 
of  his  narration  was  enough  to  satisfy  any  teller  of 


342  DR.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

stories.  There  was  silence  for  a  time.  Then  Sibyl 
said:  "I  should  have  liked  to  have  been  with  you. 
I  think  serpents  beautiful.  I  do  not  believe  they 
would  hurt  me.  I  can  handle  bees." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  St.  Clair.  "  Then  no  other  wild 
thing  would  hurt  you,  certainly  no  snake." 

"  It  is  dreadful/'  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  I  shall  dream 
of  them.  Let  us  talk  of  something  gay.  I  would  far 
rather  have  had  the  story  of  the  marriage  by  adver 
tisement." 

Clayborne  sat  at  ease,  smiling  grimly.  "Let  us 
have  a  little  rational  talk." 

My  wife  said  at  last :  "  Then  I  shall  be  critical.  I 
don't  believe  your  story,  and  I  do  not  want  to  believe 
it.  I  do  not  think  you  should  have  told  us  that  you 
are  sure  you  will  not  live  to  be  old." 

"I  did  not  ask  you  to  believe  me  or  it.  It  is 
true." 

"  Please  not  to  die  soon,"  said  Sibyl.  "  It  is  so  in 
convenient  for  other  people."  It  was  not  like  her, 
and  we  laughed  merrily. 

" The  cobra  charm  is  broken,"  said  I.  "I  wonder 
how  Xerxes  keeps  Christmas." 

"And,"  said  St.  Clair,  "how  some  keep  Christmas 
whom  he  has  ruined.  But  the  word  reminds  me  of 
something  I  nearly  forgot,"  and  thus  speaking,  he 
went  to  an  alcove  and  came  back  with  his  bas-relief 
of  my  daughter  Mary.  "  There,"  he  said,  "  Mrs.  North, 
is  my  Christmas  gift.  Forget  the  serpents.  No  won 
der  women  hate  them." 

It  was  a  charming  head,  with  that  strange  look  of 
tender  mystery  about  it  which  belongs  to  childhood, 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  343 

and  yet  with  the  look  of  alert  intelligence  character 
istic  of  our  pretty,  wilful  maiden.  My  wife  turned 
with  full  eyes,  and  taking  both  of  St.  Glair's  hands, 
thanked  him. 

"  We  forgive  you,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  All  ? "  he  asked.  "  Everything  ?-— all  my  sins,  past 
and  present  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  to  come/'  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  We  have 
immense  belief  in  your  capacity  to  test  our  good 
faith." 

"  Thanks,  my  dear  lady.  I  accept  the  absolution 
and  the  indulgences.  They  come  aptly." 

"What  have  you  been  doing?"  said  Clayborne. 

"  I  have  a  mighty  mind  to  have  this  absolution  put 
on  paper,"  said  the  poet. 

"  We  promised,"  said  my  wife.  "  I  am  sure  you 
have  been  very  naughty.  Confess." 

"  Are  you  in  love,  married,  out  of  debt?  What  is 
it  ?  "  cried  Vincent. 

"Ah,"  said  St.  Glair,  "it  is  no  light  matter.  My 
dear  Clayborne,  have  you  heard  again  from  Kant  ? " 

"  What  stuff  is  this  ? "  growled  our  host. 

"  Is  personal  consciousness  a  fragment  of  the  per 
ceptivity  of  the  world-soul  1 " 

This  was  high  fun  for  Alice  and  me,  who  were  in 
the  secret. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  scholar. 

"Excuse  me,"  cried  St.  Glair,  laughing.  "In  the 
words  of  Alcott,  '  Is  there  not  somewhere  in  the  uni 
verse  an  Eternal  Tea-pot  ? 7  How  about  double  souls, 
Mrs.  Vincent,  and  the  thirty-seven  religions  of  Bos 
ton?  And  have  you  again  overdrawn  your  bank- 


344  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

account  ?  I  heard  Vincent  say  so  a  week  before  the 
seance.  I  believe  you  once  used  to  add  your  checks 
to  your  balance." 

"  Shame,  shame  !  "  cried  Anne  Vincent.  "  What  an 
outrage ! " 

Upon  this  we  broke  into  inextinguishable  laughter, 
St.  Glair  retreating  behind  the  table  and  gleefully 
clapping  his  hands. 

"  I  must  get  a  little  space  between  us.  I  did  it !  I 
am  Weevils  !  Lovely  name  !  I  was  Weevils  !  Thank 
Heaven,  I  am  forgiven.  Three  cheers  for  Weevils  !  " 

"  Did  you  know  of  this,  Frederick  Vincent  ? "  said 
Mrs.  Vincent,  severely. 

"  Not  I.  Was  I  not  described  ?  Accept  my  thanks, 
Victor.'7 

"  And  I,  what  a  pretty  moral  lesson  I  got !  "  said 
Mrs.  Vincent.  "  Let  us  laugh  and  forgive,  but  never 
forget." 

We  certainly  forgave,  for  in  laughter  is  forgiveness, 
and  we  were  humbly  merry  over  this  gigantic  piece 
of  mischief. 

"  At  least  I  have  relieved  the  gloom,"  said  St.  Clair, 
"  and  I  have  a  clean  slate.  What  dear  people  you  all 
are !  If  I  had  only  had  Xerxes,  too !  Think  of  the 
freedom  of  speech  one  has.  I  should  have  called  up 
a  man  he  and  his  partner  ruined,  and  who  shot  him 
self.  The  things  that  man  would  have  said  to  Xerxes  ! 
What  a  lost  opportunity  !  " 

"  Are  we  going  to  relapse  into  the  serious  ? n  said 
Mrs.  Vincent.  "  I  forbid  it.  Come,  Alice  j  come,  Sibyl. 
Let  us  go  to  bed  before  they  make  us  sad  again.  A 
merry  Christmas  to  you  all,  good  gentlemen ;  and  so, 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  345 

good  night.  It  is  useless,  Fred,  to  tell  you  not  to 
smoke  too  much." 

"  Entirely.     Good  night,  Anne." 

"  It  is  Christmas  eve.  We  should  have  had  a  carol. 
Good  night." 

A  half -hour  later  St.  Glair  went  out  of  doors.  I 
heard  the  crunch  of  his  feet  in  the  dry  snow.  Then 
presently  he  began  to  sing,  and  I  knew  it  was  a  carol 
in  answer  to  my  wife's  wish.  We  went  to  the  window 
and  raised  the  sash.  This  was  what  he  sang : 

"  King  Christmas  sat  in  his  house  of  ice, 

And  looked  across  the  snow. 
'  Hallo,  my  little  man ! '  he  cried, 
'Now  whither  dost  thou  go? ' 

" '  I  go,  my  lord,  along  the  way 
That  all  my  kin  have  gone, 
Where  you,  my  lord,  shall  follow  me 
Before  another  dawn.' 

"'Right  gaily,'  cried  the  Christmas  King. 

'  Who  ride  to-night  with  thee  ?  ' 
'The  days  of  grief,  the  days  of  joy, 
Are  they  who  ride  with  me.' 

" '  God  keep  thee  merry,  little  man  ; 

Go  whisper  them  that  mourn 
How  surely  comes  again  the  day 
When  Christ  the  Lord  was  born. 

" '  And  be  not  sad,  my  little  man, 

But  when  thou  too  art  old, 
And  stumble  o'er  the  wintry  waste, 
A  weary  man  and  cold, 


346  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

" '  Right  cheerily,  I  pray  thee,  then 

To  keep  this  gracious  tryst, 
And  leave  thy  weary  burden  here, 
Where  cares  grow  light,  with  Christ. 

"  *  Now  bid  thy  gallant  company 

Ride  onward  without  fear; 
For  I,  the  King  of  Christmas, 

Have  blessed  the  glad  New  Year.' " 

As  he  ceased,  I  heard  my  wife  say  from  her  win 
dow,  "  Thank  you,  thank  you,"  and  then  Mrs.  Vin 
cent's  rich  voice  rang  out  overhead  in  a  verse  of  the 
old  English  carol : 

"God  rest  you  merry,  gentlemen; 

Let  nothing  you  dismay. 
For  Jesus  Christ,  our  Saviour, 
Was  born  on  Christmas  day." 


XX 


IHIS  was  the  last  of  our  pleasant  dinners 
T^  TO  ^or  manv  months.  Clayborne  discovered 
J|  that  he  must  consult  the  Archives  of 
Simancas,  and  perhaps  visit  Constantino 
ple.  He  wished  to  take  Miss  Maywood 
with  him.  I  positively  forbade  it,  to  her  disappoint 
ment.  She  was  not  strong ;  and,  as  Clayborne  trav 
eled  at  a  rate  destructive  to  comfort,  I  was  sure  she 
could  not  endure  it  and  retain  even  such  uncer 
tain  health  as  she  still  possessed.  St.  Clair  had  been 
well  paid  for  two  busts,  and,  as  usual  when  money 
was  abundant,  he  became  restless.  One  day  he  dis 
appeared,  leaving  a  note  for  me  to  say  that  he  had 
gone  to  Mexico,  and  did  not  my  wife  want  some  black 
opals  ?  To  complete  our  social  losses,  Vincent  had  a 
series  of  annoying  attacks  of  influenza,  and  I  felt  that 
it  was  needful  to  order  him  to  Florida.  Sibyl  settled 
down  with  a  brevet  appointment  of  governess,  and  I 
to  complete  my  book.  In  this  task  my  wife  took 
the  utmost  interest.  It  was  on  character-building, 
and  was,  of  course,  dealt  with  from  the  view-point 
of  a  physician. 

"  Where  are  you  in  the  book  ? "  she  asked  one  night 
when,  as  usual,  she  claimed  what  she  called  her  own 

347 


348  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

hour  before  she  went  to  bed.  After  that  I  took  to  a 
novel  and  a  final  cigar. 

I  said :  "  I  am  wondering  what  influence  diet  has 
on  character.  I  should  like  to  know  if  children 
brought  up  as  vegetarians  would  be  different  from 
such  as  have  meat  added." 

"  Are  not  meat-fed  dogs  cross  ? "  she  asked. 

"  That  is  an  old  notion  j  whether  correct  or  not  I 
do  not  know.  It  is  certain  that  some  people  who 
are  old  and  have  weak  arteries  become  clear  of  head 
and  less  irritable  if  they  give  up  meat  diet.  I  have 
seen  extreme  ill  temper  in  persons  fed  on  meat  alone 
for  a  year." 

"  Do  not  you  remember  St.  Clair  telling  us  that  the 
long  fasts  of  Ramadan,  the  Mohammedan  Lent,  make 
people  cross,  and  enormously  increase  at  that  time 
the  number  of  divorces  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  recall  it.  Fasting  can  hardly  contribute 
to  human  virtue." 

"  Is  it  possible,  Owen,  to  live  on  meat  alone  ? " 

"Yes.  It  is  done  by  the  G-auchos,  and  has  been 
done  by  sick  people.  The  patient  gets  very  thin  and 
very  red.  The  blood-cells  may  then  run  up  in  num 
ber  to  six  million  for  each  cubic  millimeter." 

"And  they  should  number?" 

"  Well,  a  man  ought  to  have  five  million.  It  varies. 
A  woman  has  about  four  million." 

"  How  humiliating  !  "  said  my  wife,  laughing.  "  I 
shall  take  to  meat  diet." 

"  Don't,  please.     Mary  might  regret  it,  and  I." 

"  I  shall  reflect  on  it,  Owen." 

"  And  don't  introduce  it,  dear,  into  the  colleges  for 


DE.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS  349 

women,  in  order  to  the  lifting  of  the  more  anemic 
sex  to  the  level  of  man." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  cried,  laughing.  "  Or  why  not 
bring  his  excess  of  blood  down  to  our  number? 
Perhaps  he  would  then  be  easier  to  live  with." 

"  Kiss  me,  and  go  to  bed,"  I  said,  laughing. 

"  Have  you  a  nice  novel,  Owen  ? "  It  was  part  of 
her  care  of  me  to  provide  me  with  this  evening  diet.  I 
found  it  cleared  my  head  of  the  cobwebs  of  the  day. 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  I  am  studying  boy  character  in  a 
report  I  have  here  of  the  McDonough  School,  near 
Baltimore.  It  seems  to  be  little  known." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Oh,  the  school  is  in  a  vast  woodland,  and  this  is 
full  of  nut-trees  and  all  manner  of  small  game.  The 
boys  by  degrees  made  game  laws  and  nut  laws,  pun 
ished  those  who  broke  them,  and  had  school  meetings 
to  arrange  these  matters.  It  is  an  illustration  of  the 
parliamentary  instincts  of  our  race." 

"  How  interesting !  " 

"  The  bigger  boys,  like  barons  of  old,  at  last  held 
by  force  the  best  of  the  game  preserves,  and  claimed, 
on  leaving  school,  the  right  to  will  their  property. 
Thus  property  accumulated  in  the  hands  of  the 
strong.  A  social  revolution  against  this  selfishness 
was  checked  for  a  time  by  bribing  the  socialist  lead 
ers  with  land  grants.  As  taffy,  the  great  luxury  of 
the  school,  required  butter,  the  ounce  of  butter 
allowed  at  each  meal  became  the  circulating  unit,— in 
fact,  their  money,— because  it  did  not  vary  and  be 
cause  it  was  needed  to  make  taffy.  So  many  l  butters ' 
were  the  price  of  a  rabbit,  and  so  on.  It  is  too  long  a 


350  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

story  to  relate  in  full.  I  have  found  it  valuable.  It 
was  published  by  the  Johns  Hopkins  University.  I 
shall  keep  it  for  you." 

" I  wonder,"  said  my  wife,  "if  in  a  girls'  school 
any  such  rules  would  be  made." 

"  In  one,  I  believe,  they  regulated  in  some  way  the 
picking  of  flowers.  I  never  heard  the  details.  But 
as  they  don't  climb  trees  for  nuts,  or  collect  birds' 
eggs,  or  trap  rabbits,  there  might  be  small  occasion 
for  such  laws." 

"  They  should  do  all,"  said  my  wife,  firmly.  "  They 
shall  have  in  my  college  five  million  corpuscles  and 
climb  trees." 

"And  wear— I  fear  to  go  on— and  never,  never 
condescend  to  the  low  estate  of  marriage." 

"  Never,"  said  madam,  "  unless  they  desire  to  be 
as  unhappy  as  I.  Good  night,  you  dear,  bad  man." 


XXI 

HE  Vincents,  vastly  bored  by  Florida, 
had  come  home.  On  the  25th  of  May 
I  received  a  note  from  Clayborne :  "I 
landed  yesterday.  Shall  be  with  you 
to-morrow  after  dinner.  Ask  all  our 
round-table  folk.  I  need  a  little  good  society."  St. 
Clair  had  arrived  a  week  before,  brown  and  handsome. 
On  the  day  named,  Mrs.  North  and  I  were  unluckily 
engaged  to  dine  with  my  wife's  mother.  Excusing 
ourselves,  we  came  away  early,  and,  returning  home, 
found  Sibyl  and  St.  Clair  in  my  library.  Although  I 
was  still  uneasy  about  Miss  Maywood's  fluctuating 
health,  she  had  seemed  to  us  to  have  quite  overcome 
her  emotional  weakness,  and  nothing  in  her  manner 
to  St.  Clair  now  betrayed  a  trace  of  the  unfortunate 
influence  his  folly  had  caused.  When  we  entered,  he 
was  standing  silent  before  a  cast  of  the  wasted 
features  of  Keats.  Without  the  usual  conventional 
greeting,  or  even  a  turn  of  the  head  as  we  entered, 
he  said:  " What  is  this,  Owen?"  As  he  spoke  he 
took,  from  a  hook  where  it  hung  under  the  mask,  a 
small  brass  shield  surmounted  by  a  coronet.  "  Owen, 
what  is  this,  <  Crede  Byron  >  1 » 

"  Ah,"  said  I,  "  that  is  an  illustration  of  '  Tout  vient 
a  qui  sait  attendre.'    When  I  was  a  lad  of  eighteen 

351 


352  DE.   NOETH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS 

and  adored  Byron,  I  was  once  with  my  father  in  the 

house  of  Mr.  W .  He  told  us  that  when  young 

he  had  for  his  gondolier  at  Venice  the  son  of  Byron's 
boatman.  One  day,  in  this  man's  house,  he  saw  the 
children  playing  with  this  brass.  He  learned  that  it 
was  the  poet's  arms  and  coronet,  and  had  been  long 
used  on  his  gondola.  Below  is  the  hook  for  a  lan 
tern.  As  we  walked  homeward,  I  said  to  my  father : 
*  How  much  I  should  like  to  have  that  relic  !/  '  Ah,' 
said  he,  l  you  will  live  to  get  many  things  in  this  life, 
but  never  that— never  that.7  Last  week  my  friend 
Mrs.  S ,  Mr.  W 's  daughter,  gave  it  to  me." 

"  I  envy  you  the  possession.  Wise  Protestants  smile 
at  the  Catholic's  passion  for  relics,  but  even  Clayborne 
has  it  in  his  own  way.  Byron  died  too  soon." 

"  Mr.  Vincent,"  said  Miss  May  wood,  "  says  we  may 
divide  great  men  into  two  sets,  those  who  die  too  soon 
and  those  who  live  too  long." 

"A  pregnant  text,"  laughed  St.  Clair,  "and  much 
matter  in  it.  Byron  died  too  soon.  To  know  what 
he  might  have  become,  you  should  read  his  letters." 

"  Fine  praise ;  even  Clayborne  admits  that,"  said  I. 

"  Was  it  not,  my  dear  Owen,"  returned  the  poet, 
"  Goethe  who  so  greatly  admired  Byron's  letters  ?  One 
has  a  most  natural  curiosity  as  to  these  uncompleted 
lives,  and  most  as  to  those  who  fall  in  early  middle 
life." 

Meanwhile  St.  Clair  stood  looking  down  at  the  brass 
escutcheon  he  had  taken  from  the  wall. 

" l  Crede  Byron]  what  a  strange  motto  for  him ! 
How  cynical  is  time  !  If  Shelley  may  be  trusted,  these 
brasses  must  have  seen  some  queer  adventures. 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  353 

*  Crede  Byron;  what  a  sad  plea  !  "  And  as  he  spoke  he 
replaced  the  brass  below  the  pensive  mask  of  that 
other  poet,  the  greatest  of  those  whom,  alas  !  the  gods 
loved  too  well. 

"Perhaps  now,"  said  my  wife  to  St.  Clair,  "you 
will  attend  to  the  living  and  say  good  evening.77 

"Ah,"  cried  St.  Clair,  turning,  "you  know,  I  hope 
you  know,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you.  What  need  to 
say  so  ?  Let  Miss  May  wood  read  Byron,  Owen.  She 
has  never  read  a  line  of  him.  Clayborne  hates  him ; 
but  he  hates  everything  in  verse  since  Shakespeare." 

"She  shall,"  said  I. 

"  Ah,  he  will  never  become  like  so  many,  a  mere 
scholars'  poet,  his  works  a  playground  for  critic  school 
boys.  He  will  have  in  every  age  his  audience.  He 
will  always  interest.  Virility  is  a  fine  assurance  to  a 
poet  of  a  long  life  of  fame." 

"  The  master,"  said  Sibyl,  "  says  that  he  is  a  poet  of 
the  obvious.  I  did  not  understand." 

"I  think  I  do,"  said  St.  Clair,  "but  it  is  false  criti 
cism.  It  is  how  you  say  and  interpret  the  obvious 
that  is  of  moment.  Rest  sure  that  he  will  live.  He 
is  of  the  immortals.  No  man  can  escape  entirely  the 
influence  of  his  time.  Byron  felt  it,  shows  it.  But 
there  is  still  enough  of  the  forever  in  Byron  to  be 
secure  of  constant  appeal  to  man.  Read  him,  Miss 
Maywood." 

Then  Sibyl  said  one  of  the  unexpected  things  which 
often  had  small  relation  to  the  present  subject  of 
talk: 

"It  is  hard  even  to  conceive  of  that  which  you  call 
immortality  of  appeal.  Social  life,  tastes,  sentiment 


354  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 


or  the  manners  of  sentiment,  all  change  so  much. 
As  to  that  other  immortality,  I  wonder  if  in  that  life 
to  come,  mortality,  the  certainty  of  coming  to  an  end, 
becomes  inconceivable." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  St.  Clair.  "  Surely,  to  know  yourself 
as  endless,  not  merely  to  feel  that  you  are,  must  be— 
well,  I  fear  that  I  should  think  it  a  doubtful  privi 
lege.  Now,  I  know  that  I  had  one  end ;  some  call  it 
a  beginning.  It  does  n't  seem  correct  not  to  have 
another  end." 

" Sibyl,"  said  my  wife,  "your  texts  are  pretty  grim 
at  times,  and  Mr.  St.  Clair's  sermons  upon  them  fantas 
tic.  Do  Mr.  Clayborne  and  you  spend  your  days  over 
these  cheerful  riddles  ?  Thank  goodness  !  here  he  is 
at  last,  and  the  Vincents,  too." 

She  went  forward  and  greeted  Clayborne  with  both 
hands.  "  And  so  they  gave  you  a  degree  at  Oxford  ? 
I  hope  you  brought  home  your  gown.  We  were  very 
proud.  And  Spain— Madrid.  Sit  down  and  tell  us  all 
about  it." 

Clayborne  was  at  his  best  and  lectured  on  Spain  to 
his  heart's  content.  "  I  saw  one  bull-fight,"  he  said. 
"  I  shall  never  see  another.  It  made  me  ill,  what 
John  Bull  calls  sick,  and  I  could  not  get  out.  It  is 
not  a  thing  one  can  venture  to  describe.  A  woman 
fainted.  The  mob  hissed  her.  At  last  a  man  was 
killed,  a  rare  incident.  I  was  not  as  sorry  as  I  ought 
to  have  been." 

" I  have  seen  it,"  said  Vincent.  "It  is  really  a 
spectacle  which  cannot  decently  be  put  on  paper  with 
all  its  horrible  details." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Clayborne,  "  a  nation  throngs  to 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  355 

see  it.  To  tamper  with  it  has  unsettled  ministries, 
and  even  the  church,  once  resolute  against  it,  does  no 
longer  deny  absolution  to  the  bull-fighter  mangled  by 
the  tortured  bull." 

"  Oh,  do  not  talk  of  it  any  more/'  said  Sibyl.  "  And 
yet  you  liked  the  Spaniards." 

"Yes,  the  lower  classes,  the  country  people,  oh, 
very  much.  The  rest  I  did  not  like  as  well.  What  I 
liked  least  in  Spain  was  the  certain  uncertainty  as  to 
when  you  were  told  the  truth." 

"  I  rather  fancied  it,"  returned  St.  Clair.  "  It  gave 
a  new  flavor  to  life,  kept  one  alert." 

"  I  can  give  you  a  droll  illustration,"  said  Clayborne. 
"  The  day  I  arrived  I  went  in  my  carriage  to  the  great 
picture-gallery.  My  courier  said,  'The  gallery  is 
closed.  Wait  a  moment,  sir.'  I  was  about  to  get  out. 
He  went  up  the  steps,  and  I  saw  him  for  a  time  in 
busy  talk  with  a  well-dressed  man,  who  then  disap 
peared,  while  a  servant  opened  the  door  of  the  gallery. 
My  courier  returned,  said,  '  It  is  all  right/  and  for 
three  hours  I  wandered  alone,  with  no  company  but 
Velasquez,  Titian,  and  the  rest.  Next  day,  on  entering 
the  gallery,  I  saw,  as  I  passed,  the  man  who  had  or 
dered  me  to  be  admitted.  He  was  engaged  in  pleas 
ant  chat  with  my  courier.  They  laughed  so  much 
and  seemed  so  well  acquainted  that  by  and  by  I  asked 
what  it  meant.  'Oh/  said  my  courier,  'he  is  the 
guardian.  He  was  congratulating  me  on  how  well  I 
lied  to  him  yesterday.'  'And  what  had  you  told 
him?7  'Oh,  as  he  did  not  see  you,  I  told  him  you 
were  to  be  in  Madrid  only  half  a  day,  that  you  were 
an  English  general,  eighty  years  old,  on  your  way  to 


356  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

see  your  sick  son  at  Gibraltar,  and  would  never  be 
here  again.  Then  I  gave  him  five  francs,  and  you  got 
in.' " 

"How  dreadful !  "  said  Sibyl. 

"  One  gets  used  to  it  at  last/'  said  Clayborne. 

"  But  that  must  have  been  very  bad  for  you,"  she 
said,  at  which  we  laughed,  and  she  cried  out,  coloring 
a  little,  "  Oh,  I  did  not  mean  that." 

Some  one,  Vincent  probably,  hoped  that  here  at 
home  he  would  recover  his  moral  tone. 

"I  was  in  Spain,"  said  St.  Clair,  "when  I  was  a 
fellow  of  twenty-two.  I  saw  one  bull-fight,  and  came 
away  disgusted.  It  is  so  brutally  unfair.  That  night— 
it  was  at  Seville— I  was  fool  enough  to  cross  the  bridge 
about  nine  and  wander  in  the  quarter  where  live  the 
matadors,  Gypsies,  and  worse.  It  was  an  ill-lighted 
tangle  of  lanes  and  narrow  streets.  At  last  I  saw  a 
bright  glow  in  a  long  alley.  I  went  up  it  and  came 
into  a  noisy  cafe,  half  full  of  the  worst-looking 
rascals  I  ever  saw.  I  sat  down  at  an  unoccupied 
table,  and  was  soon  aware  that  I  was  in  hostile 
company.  Now  and  then  a  fellow  turned  to  stare  at 
me.  I  sat  still  and  lighted  a  cigar,  making  believe 
that  I  w^as  not  scared.  I  was.  Presently  a  splendidly 
made  beast  of  a  man  in  a  gorgeous  costume  came  to 
my  table  and  sat  down  and  said  something.  It  was 
very  insulting,  a  fine  temptation  to  a  row.  I  called  a 
garc,on,  clapping  my  hands  as  one  does  in  Spain. 
Then  I  said  in  my  best  Spanish,  l  Six  bottles  of  the 
best  wine/  and  to  my  neighbor, '  Let  us  drink.  Bring 
all  your  friends,  senor.  May  I  offer  you  a  cigar?' 
He  looked  at  me  puzzled,  took  the  cigar,  and  then  the 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  357 

hand  I  held  out,  and  shouted  something  in  a  dialect 
unknown  to  my  Castilian  tongue.  At  once  we  were 
surrounded.  'More  wine/  said  I.  'More.7  In  five 
minutes  I  was  talking  bull-fights,  and  was  safe.  Lord, 
what  stuff  I  swallowed !  At  last  my  friend  said, 
'  Come  and  see  the  bull-fight  dance.'  I  followed  him. 
We  went  out  into  a  spacious  portico.  He  elbowed 
his  way  to  the  inside  of  a  vast  ring  of  men  whom  I 
longed  to  sketch.  Here  he  called  for  chairs,  and  we 
sat  down  on  a  marble  floor.  In  the  middle  of  the 
court  stood  a  tall  woman  in  a  short  black  silk  skirt 
and  bodice,  black  silk  stockings,  and  black  slippers. 
She  was  a  light  brunette,  with  large  blue  eyes  and  a 
quantity  of  brilliant  red  hair.  A  black  ribbon  tied 
under  her  chin,  and  a  second  secured  at  the  back 
below  this  coil  of  hair,  kept  firmly  in  place  on  the  top 
of  her  head  a  pair  of  horns.  On  the  tip  of  each  of 
these  was  a  small  pad  well  chalked.  As  we  sat  down 
she  began  to  dance  to  the  wild  music  of  guitars,  cas 
tanets,  and  cymbals.  The  players  were  in  black  vel 
vet,  and  wore  caps  with  a  silver  spoon  on  the  front. 
What  this  meant  I  did  not  understand." 
"  I  do,"  said  Clayborne.  "  But  go  on." 
"  Then  let  us  sit  down,"  said  I,  and  St.  Glair 
continued : 

"  She  danced  with  grace,  and  clearly  enough  en 
joyed  it.  Presently  one,  two,  three  fellows  in  gay 
dresses  came  out  of  the  crowd  and  danced  around 
her.  Each  man  had  a  long  bodkin  of  horn  or  wood, 
ornamented  with  red  silk  tassels.  As  they  flew 
around  her,  these  men  tried  to  set  their  darts  in  her 
coil  of  red  hair.  She,  in  turn,  sought  to  escape,  and 

24 


358  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

to  touch  their  dark  velvet  jackets  with  the  chalked 
horns.  The  music  quickened,  the  crowd  yelled  ap 
plause,  and  the  dance  became  wilder.  It  was  really 
a  most  beautiful  thing  to  see.  When  she  touched  a 
man,  he  fell  out  amid  jeers  j  when  he  left  his  dart 
in  her  hair  he  retired  laughing,  having  won  his 
drink.  After  an  hour  I  rose  to  go.  '  Not  alone,' 
said  my  friend  j  and,  accompanied  by  him  and  two 
other  splendid  scamps,  I  went  away.  When  we  had 
passed  over  the  bridge  I  took  out  my  little  silver 
match-box  and  gave  it  to  the  chief  of  my  escort.  He 
thanked  me  profusely,  and  said :  1 1  am  Sanchez,  the 
picador.  Name  me,  and  you  are  safe  over  there ; 
but  go  no  more,  except  in  the  daytime,  senor.  Buenas 
noches.' " 

"  What  a  fine  picture  it  would  make  !  "  said  my  wife, 
and  we  thanked  him  for  a  word-sketch  charmingly 
rendered,  and  told  as  only  St.  Glair  knew  how.  Then 
the  talk  went  back  to  the  question  of  national  respect 
for  truth,  and  at  last  Mrs.  Vincent  said :  "  There  are 
people  who  seem  naturally  unable  to  tell  the  truth." 

I  said  that  was  a  rather  strong  statement,  but  that 
it  was  one  of  the  forms  of  mental  disorder. 

"  I  saw,"  said  I,  "  not  long  ago  a  woman,  a  lady  in 
middle  life,  who  began  to  alarm  her  family  by  lying. 
She  was  not  merely  inaccurate  from  loss  of  memory. 
She  became  so  unable  to  tell  the  truth  that  it  was 
generally  safe  to  assume  as  true  the  reverse  of  what 
she  said.  If  you  asked  her  what  time  it  was,  she 
looked  at  her  watch  and  said  twelve  if  it  were  six 
o'clock.  She  invented  the  most  singular  and  perplex 
ing  stories,  and  once  calmly  assured  a  woman  that 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  359 

she  had  heard  her  husband  had  been  guilty  of  for 
gery.  She  always  denied  these  stories  when  challenged, 
and  never  repeated  her  tales.  It  became  at  last  a 
very  serious  matter.  I  advised  a  change  of  all  her 
surroundings." 

"  You  might,"  said  Vincent,  "  have  suggested  Spain 
or  Italy  as  a  homeopathic  health  resort." 

"  I  should  think  her  a  fit  inmate  for  an  asylum," 
said  Clayborne. 

"  No  one,'7  said  I,  "  should  be  sent  to  an  asylum 
unless  because  of  poverty  or  because  of  being  so 
dangerous  that  he  cannot  be  treated  outside  of  a 
hospital." 

"  Is  that  a  common  opinion  among  physicians  ? " 
said  Vincent. 

"  It  is  becoming  that.  There  is  no  special  value  in 
an  asylum.  The  treatment  of  insanity,  to  be  of  ser 
vice,  depends  on  individualized  study  of  cases,  and 
where  there  are  hundreds  how  is  it  possible  ? " 

"  I  have  in  me,"  said  Clayborne,  "  that  which  ena 
bles  me  to  explain  the  possibility  of  almost  any  crime, 
but  nothing  which  helps  me  to  conceive  of  my  becom 
ing  insane." 

"Nor  have  I.  But  if  I  had  to  live  perpetually 
among  the  mentally  unsound,  amid  the  hordes  which 
crowd  our  State  asylums,  I  should  certainly  end  in  a 
condition  of  what  I  may  be  allowed  to  call  intellectual 
despair.  There  is  too  little  success  to  feed  hope ;  I 
like  to  keep  him  fat." 

"  Hope  is  feminine,"  said  Alice. 

"  Thanks ;  we  will  argue  that,"  I  said.  "  I  cannot  see 
that  it  is  '  big  medicine/  as  the  Indians  say,  to  put  an 


360  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

insane  man  in  the  company  of  the  insane.  Bather 
should  all  around  him  be  of  the  sanest." 

"  That  seems  plain  to  my  mind,"  said  Clayborne. 
"  But  if,  as  appears  likely,  there  is  a  physical  change 
back  of  and  responsible  for  the  moral  and  mental 
disturbance,  how  can  a  normal  moral  or  mental  en 
vironment  be  of  value  ? " 

"  It  cannot  as  long  as  the  physical,  let  me  say  the 
crude  pathological,  alteration  of  brain  is  still  actively 
present.  But  this  is  too  technical  for  talk,  would  take 
too  long  to  make  clear." 

"  No,"  said  Vincent ;  "  pray  go  on." 

"  Better  not.  We  will  leave  it.  But  I  like  to  add 
that  in  some  insanities  the  abruptness  of  recovery  is 
such  as  to  disable  us  from  believing  that  the  physi 
cal  mechanism  was  ever  gravely  altered.  When  we 
come  to  study  the  long-affected  brain  of  the  insane, 
how  much  of  the  changes  seen  is  cause  and  how 
much  consequence  is  as  yet  our  constantly  recurring 
riddle." 

"You  interest  me,"  said  Clayborne.  "Does  the 
normal  brain-action  involve  visible  alteration  of 
structure  ?  " 

"  Fatigue  does." 

"A  fit  of  wrath  we  look  upon  as  natural.  Would 
successive  fits  change  the  brain-tissue  ? " 

"Possibly.  The  furious  maniac,  the  victim  of 
chronic  anger,  has  usually  some  distinct  organic 
affection  of  the  tissues.  But  this  is  hard  to  discuss 
lightly.  One  sees  (the  case  is  rare)  a  woman  in  pro 
found  apathetic  melancholy  for  years.  One  morning 
she  resumes  her  place  at  the  tea-urn,  and  says :  '  One 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  361 

lump  or  two,  John  ?  I  forget '  j  and  so  is  well !  What 
happened  ? " 

"  It  gives  me,"  said  my  wife,  "  a  shuddering  sense 
of  how  near  we  may  be  to  such  a  state." 

"No/7  I  said;  "it  makes  one  feel  how  near  all  the 
while  she  was  to  our  state." 

"  That  is  a  close  approach  to  an  intellectual  bull," 
said  St.  Clair.  "I  like  to  see  you  wise  folks 
stumble." 

"  Some  subjects,"  said  I,  "  are  unfit  for  the  quick, 
uncertain  thought  of  mere  talk.  This  is  one.  It 
were  better  left  to  the  pen." 

"I,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "must  say  that  sometimes 
sleep  furnishes  me  with  dreams  which  give  me  a 
glimpse  of  the  fact  that  we  may  have  within  us  a 
quite  populous  hospital  full  of  insanities ;  and,  bless 
me,  I  am  sometimes  very  wicked  in  my  dreams.  I 
stole  Fred's  pocket-book  one  night  last  week." 

"  That  suggests  care,"  laughed  Vincent. 

"  Or  experience,"  cried  St.  Clair. 

"Has  sleep  no  conscience?"  said  Sibyl.  "I  often 
have  vague  impressions  when  awake  of  having 
done  things  which  were  wrong.  Might  that  be  a 
sort  of  remorse  for  something  which  happened  in 
sleep  and  is  forgotten  ? " 

I  glanced  at  my  wife  as  Sibyl  spoke. 

"  I  know,"  said  I,  "  a  woman  of  the  highest  character 
who  continually  dreams  crime  and  is  tortured  by 
remorse." 

"  What  an  atrocious  suggestion  ! "  said  St.  Clair. 
"  It  is  bad  enough  to  be  responsible  for  our  waking 
wickedness." 


362  DE.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS 

"What  strange  things  you  doctors  must  see  or 
hear !  "  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  So  says  Alice  when  she  wants  to  be  entertained. 
She  loves  stories  as  a  child  loves  them.  Usually  she 
casts  that  fly  in  vain.  Concerning  most  of  life's 
strangest  experiences  my  lips  are  professionally 
sealed.  Sometimes  they  may  be  told  when  years 
have  gone  by  and  death  has  removed  all  concerned." 

"  Do  be  good  and  imprudent  and  tell  us/'  said  Mrs. 
Vincent. 

"  I  myself  once  brought  you  a  case,"  said  Vincent, 
"  which  the  patient  published  widely,  until  she  quite 
lost  her  reason.  You  may  relate  that." 

"  It  is  hardly  a  story.  The  one  you  mean  was  the 
case  of  a  woman  who  complained  that  her  thoughts 
were  solid  and  cast  shadows  on  her  mind.  These, 
she  explained,  were  colored  shadows ;  anger  cast  red, 
jealousy  black,  love  blue  shadows.  I  asked  could  she 
see  them.  Yes,  in  her  mind." 

"Let  me  stir  your  memory  again,  Owen,"  said 

Clayborne.  "L 's  case  became  public  property. 

You  may  tell  that." 

"Yes,"  said  Ij  "that  is  better  worth  telling.  It 
was  most  curious.  This  was  a  man  of  forty,  who 
was  accomplished,  intelligent,  rich,  and  a  bachelor. 
He  came  to  me  and  stated,  as  he  did  to  every  one  he 
met,  that  he  was  the  devil.  This  is  a  delusion  I  have 
seen  more  than  once,  but  commonly  persons  so 
afflicted  are  not  wicked.  This  man  said  that  he  had 
long  doubted  if  he  really  were  Satan,  but  that  now 
he  felt  sure.  'Then  why  come  to  me?7  I  asked. 
'  Because  there  are  moments  when  I  still  doubt. 


DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  363 

I  am  at  times  sorry  for  something,  and  that  does 
not  seem  natural  to  the  devil.7  As  his  case  devel 
oped,  he  became  more  confident  that  he  was  Satan, 
and  was  very  cunning  in  his  efforts  to  conceal  his 
belief.  Here  comes  in  the  difference  between  this 
case  and  all  others  I  have  seen.  He  began  to  act 
as  if  he  were  a  fiend;  not  by  doing  things  which 
would  get  him  into  trouble,  but  by  acting  with  intelli 
gent  caution  the  role  of  tempter.  I  was  going  out 
of  my  house  with  him,  when  a  dissolute  tramp  asked 

alms.    i  Well,'  said  L ,  '  if  you  will  promise  to  get 

very  drunk,  here  are  five  dollars.'  (I  will,'  said  the 
tramp.  This  gentleman  really  applied  a  very  good 
mind  to  making  people  evil.  It  is  a  long  and  com 
plicated  story.  It  ended  in  a  singular  fashion.  He 
wrote  two  advertisements :  t  Wanted,  skilful  or  un 
trained  young  men  willing  to  learn  to  steal.' '  Wanted, 
a  few  innocent  young  persons  desirous  of  learning 
how,  with  profit  and  safety,  to  take  human  life  by  the 
use  of  poison.  Persons  already  wicked  need  not 
apply.  Terms  low.  Clergymen  half-price.  SATAN.' 
Naturally  enough,  these  advertisements  were  de 
clined.  When  at  last  he  was  examined  with  reference 
to  placing  his  estate  in  commission,  he  defended  him 
self  with  notable  skill.  When  asked,  'Are  you  the 
devil  ? '  he  said,  '  Yes.'  '  Then  why  do  you  lead  so 
exemplary  a  life  ?  You  pay  your  debts ;  you  assist 
charities ;  you  even  go  to  church.'  l  Yes/  he  replied. 
'  You  are  very  dull.  When  you  good  people  want  to 
be  amused,  you  do  something  wicked ;  but  when  Satan 
desires  variety  and  interest,  he,  of  course,  does  some 
thing  good.  His  personal  business— my  business— 


364:  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

is  not  sin.  I  have  exhausted  the  Decalogue.  Even 
I  cannot  invent  new  sins.  I  tempt  others/  and 
so  on." 

"  That  is  a  fine  idea/'  said  St.  Clair.  "  An  insane 
Mephistopheles.  It  would  make  a  good  opera." 

"  I,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  dislike  to  see  insanity  set 
on  the  stage.  t  Lear '  I  once  saw.  No  more  of  that  for 
me.  What  say  you,  Alice  ?  " 

"  I  am  altogether  of  your  opinion.  The  better  the 
acting,  the  less  I  like  it.  Leontes,  I  mean  in  l  The 
Winter's  Tale/  must  be  a  most  unpleasing  part." 

"Evidently,"  said  I,  "the  dramatist  meant  to  draw 
a  portrait  of  insanity,  the  homicidal  outcome  of  sudden 
jealousy.  It  is  too  abrupt  in  its  onset.  Nothing  pre 
pares  the  mind  for  his  unreason." 

"But  what  of  Ophelia?"  said  Vincent. 

To  this  I  made  answer:  "I  have  an  experience  of 
insanity  far  beyond  any  possible  to  Shakespeare.  I 
have  seen  two  cases  somewhat  like  that  of  Ophelia." 

"  I  have  often  seen  the  part  acted,"  said  Clayborne, 
"  but  it  always  failed  to  move  me.  It  does  not  ever 
seem  a  correct  rendering.  I  find  it  difficult  to  explain 
myself.  It  is  as  with  a  picture,  a  portrait.  We  say, 
'  There  is  something  wrong  with  it.'  We  cannot  tell 
what  it  is.  And  yet,  when  I  read  the  play  I  have  not 
this  feeling." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  I,  "  I  may  help  you.  To  act  the 
role  of  an  insane  person  so  as  to  make  it  continuously 
gentle,  prettily  sentimental,  'is  not  to  follow  after 
nature.  In  one  of  the  cases  I  referred  to,  a  refined, 
sensitive  woman  sang  sad  love-songs  and  then 
became  abruptly  violent,  wildly  screaming  some 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  365 

tender  sentiment;  or  at  the  close  of  a  song  that 
was  serious  would  burst  into  laughter  with  the  last 
line  of  the  refrain.  That  is  the  way  Ophelia  ought 
to  be  acted." 

"The  trouble/'  said  Vincent,  "is  that  the  great 
characters  get  so  crusted  about  with  stage  traditions 
that  freshly  revised  renderings  become  impossible,  or 
at  least  they  are  so  except  in  the  case  of  actors  made 
independent  by  genius,  and  that  we  have  not  on  the 
stage  to-day.  We  have  stage  artists,  but  not  great 
actors.  I  think  that  never  was  the  English  stage  so 
far  from  nature." 

"  There  is,"  said  St.  Clair,  "  another  trouble  in  our 
mode  of  dealing  with  great  dramatic  characters  such 
as  Hamlet,  which  are  set  for  contrast  against  some 
other  and  different  nature.  Thus  Hamlet  is  con 
trasted  with  the  positive  criminal  decisiveness  and 
sensual  nature  of  the  king.  When  the  king's  part  is 
made  weak  by  omissions  the  whole  picture  is  damaged. 
We  lose  the  background." 

Said  Vincent :  "  That  is  true.  I  was  thinking  lately 
of  what  a  good  case  for  a  moot  court  would  be  Ham 
let's.  Was  he  insane  ?  In  a  court  to-day  his  mother's 
misbehavior  and  the  fact  of  his  uncle  having  been  a 
murderer  would,  I  fancy,  be  used  as  implying  heredi 
tary  unsoundness." 

"Ingenious,  that,"  said  Clayborne.  "I  should  be  a 
puzzled  juryman." 

Said  my  wife :  "  Are  there  many  insane  people  in 
the  other  dramatic  works  of  Shakespeare's  day  ? " 

No  one  could  answer,  and  Sibyl  said,  with  her  not 
uncommon  want  of  relevancy:  "It  is  pleasant  to 


366  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

know  so  little  of  the  man  Shakespeare.  We  might 
have  learned  so  much  that  one  would  not  wish  to 
credit." 

"  I  like  better/'  said  I,  "  to  know  all  of  a  man,  the 
good  and  the  bad." 

"  I  am  glad  you  do  not/7  said  St.  Clair. 

"Let  me  answer/'  said  Vincent.  "When  one  has 
a  man's  writings  you  have  all  that  he  meant  you  to 
know.  Where  a  man  is  a  soldier  or  sailor,  a  man  of 
action,  it  is  otherwise.  A  poet's  poems  are  his  actions. 
I  have,  too,  an  utter  disbelief  in  biography.  Usually 
its  judgments,  its  omissions,  and  its  editing,  espe 
cially  of  letters,  tell  you  more  truth  about  the  biogra 
pher  than  about  the  man  of  whom  he  writes." 

"And  autobiographies,"  said  Clayborne,  who  had 
been  unusually  silent—"  these  must  be  untrue.  Who 
can  tell  the  truth  about  himself  ?  Boswell  is  the  only 
biographer ;  but  his  was  the  unlimited  devotion  of  a 
life  to  a  life,  and  he  was  also  with  delightful  ingenu 
ousness  delineating  James  Boswell." 

"If,"  said  Vincent,  "  we  were  all  to  write,  and  then 
have  type- written,  our  statement  of  our  own  charac 
ters,  could  we,  who  know  one  another  well,  pick  them 
out  and  identify  them  ? " 

"None  of  that  for  me,"  cried  St.  Clair.  "How 
would  you  do  it  ? " 

"  Oh,"  said  Sibyl,  "  I  should  make  a  list  of  moral 
and  mental  attributes.  Each  person  should  put  a 
number  under  these  in  turn,  say  from  one  hundred 
to  naught." 

"  It  has  been  tried,"  said  Vincent,  "  by  a  group  of 


DR.   NORTH   AND   HIS  FRIENDS  367 

clever  people.  They  completely  failed  to  identify 
their  friends.  There  was  amazing  similarity.  They 
seemed  to  be  as  much  alike  in  mind  and  morals  as 
are  new-born  babes." 

"  Oh,  but  they  are  very  unlike,"  said  my  wife. 

"  Are  they?"  said  I.  "In  Vienna  once  they  took 
twelve  babies  of  a  month  old,  dressed  alike  or  all  un 
dressed,  I  do  not  remember  as  to  this.  They  tied  an 
identifying  number  to  each  babe's  foot  and  invited 
the  mothers  to  pick  out  their  own  offspring.  They 
failed  sadly." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  said  my  wife.  "  What  a  wicked 
experiment ! " 

We  laughed  at  the  maligned  motherhood,  and  St. 
Clair  turned  to  the  piano,  invitingly  open.  "  I  won 
der,"  he  said,  "  if  Shakespeare  could  sing."  He  waited 
for  no  answer,  but  began  to  carol  gaily  to  the  air  of 
"  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes." 

"  Give  me  thy  thoughts,  thou  gentle  maid, 

And  I  will  lend  them  wings 
To  soar  elate  above  the  world 
Of  transitory  things. 

"  Give  me  thy  virgin  dreams,  and  I 

Will  give  their  shyness  song 
Shall  rise  as  with  an  angel's  flight 
That  doth  for  heaven  long. 

Oh,  I  forget  the  rest.     Is  it  not  pretty  ? " 
" Is  it  new  or  old?"  said  I. 
He  made  no  reply,  but  turning  again  to  the  piano, 


368  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

said :  "  Here  is  what  a  long-forgotten  poet  said  about 
old  songs  and  new : 

"  A  new  song  should  be  sweetly  sung, 

It  goes  but  to  the  ear  j 
A  new  song  should  be  sweetly  sung, 

For  it  touches  no  one  near. 
But  an  old  song  may  be  roughly  sung; 

The  ear  forgets  its  art, 
As  rises  from  the  rudest  tongue 

The  tribute  to  the  heart. 

"On  tented  fields  't  is  welcome  still; 

'T  is  sweet  on  the  stormy  sea, 
In  forests  wild,  on  lonely  hill, 

And  away  on  the  prairie  lea. 
But  dearer  far  the  old  song 

When  friends  we  love  are  nigh, 
And  well-known  voices,  clear  and  strong, 

Ring  out  the  chorus  cry." 

"  How  old-fashioned  and  simple !  "  said  my  wife. 
"  Thanks— thank  you." 

As  he  ceased,  Mrs.  Vincent  rose.  "  It  is  so  pleasant 
to  be  once  more  together.  Goodness,  how  you  men 
have  talked !  I  am  weary  with  weight  of  new  ideas. 
Come,  Fred;  it  is  late.  We  shall  soon  be  on  the 
wing.  Let  us  all  meet  at  Bar  Harbor.  You  must 
come  this  time,"  she  said  to  Clayborne.  "  Mr.  St. 
Clair  will  promise,  and  stay  away  •  but  you — " 

"  I  will  come,  and  Sibyl." 

"  And  I,"  said  St.  Clair,  "  if  I  may  make  love  to 
Miss  Mary." 

Now,  when  all  had  left  and  Sibyl  bade   us  good 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  369 

night,  I  said :  "  Come  into  my  study,  Alice,  and  let  us 
have  a  council.  You  may  differ  with  me  in  what  I 
am  about  to  say,  but— 

"  Oh,  there  is  nothing  serious,  I  hope  ? "  She  was 
apprehensive ;  but  no  one  I  ever  knew  took  with  finer 
courage  the  ills  of  life,  and  no  one  had  in  peril  such 
instant  possession  of  all  the  qualities  needed  to  meet 
disaster. 

"No,  no,"  said  I.  "It  is  only  that  I  want  to  hold 
a  council." 

"  A  pity  it  is  not  a  council  of  war,"  she  cried,  laugh 
ing.  "  That  never  fights,  they  say." 

"  You  may  fight,  if  you  choose.  I  want  to  speak 
at  length  of  Sibyl." 

"  Go  on,  Owen,"  she  returned,  sitting  down. 

"  And  hear  me  to  the  end."  She  was  apt,  as  wives 
are,  to  anticipate  conclusions  when,  in  time  grown 
familiar  with  the  mode  of  thought  of  a  life-comrade, 
they  forecast  what  is  as  yet  unsaid. 

"I  will  listen,"  she  replied.  "We  have  grown  to 
love  her,  and  our  dear  little  Mary  adores  her." 

I  held  up  a  warning  finger.  "  Sibyl  is  very  loving, 
very  emotional;  is  a  too  easy  prisoner  of  senti 
ment,  and,  worse  than  all,  is  of  nervous  organiza 
tion." 

"And,  practically,  what  does  that  amount  to, 
Owen  ?  * 

"  It  means  that  she  has  a  temperament  the  precise 
reverse  of  yours.  Moreover,  she  is  what  people  call 
nervous.  She  is  apt  to  lose  control  of  herself,  to  cry 
readily,  to  be  subject  to  ungoverned  excesses  of  mirth 
or  grief.  She  lives  too  near  the  danger-line  of  loss 


370  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

of  power  to  discipline  her  emotions.  It  may  sound 
absurd  to  say  that  such  people  are  liable  to  moral  an 
archy.  In  other  words,  owing  to  temperament  and 
ill  health,  she  has  been  and  may  again  be  hysterical." 

"  But  I  thought  you  were  more  at  ease  as  to  her 
health  !» 

"  I  am  at  times ;  but,  on  the  whole,  I  am  not.  She 
fluctuates  strangely  as  to  her  physical  state.  Always 
she  is  gravely  anemic." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"No.  This  is  merely  a  doctor's  opinion.  There 
is  more.  No  one  can  anticipate  the  extent  to  which 
the  sensitiveness  of  hysteria  may  go.  Undoubtedly 
this  poor  child  allowed  herself  to  care  too  much  for 
our  thoughtless  man  of  genius." 

"  I  considered  that  as  over." 

"  A  woman,  and  say  that !  Sibyl's  every-day  life 
has  put  it  aside,  seeing  all  the  sad  folly  of  it ;  but  it 
is  what  I  may  call  latent,  like  a  great  sorrow.  We 
control  with  time  the  outward  display  of  emotion.  We 
know  our  loss  to  be  complete,  without  hope,  and  still 
it  abides  with  us,  never  to  be  forgotten ;  and  how 
much  it  affects  the  future  conduct  of  life  depends  upon 
the  amount  of  reasoning  self-control  we  see  fit  or  are 
able  to  exercise.  She  has  no  trustworthy  capacity 
to  get  out  of  disaster  the  good  discipline  it  brings  or 
may  bring." 

"And  what  next?" 

"  Ah,  now  comes  the  mystery.  The  mere  presence 
of  St.  Glair  affects  her  physically.  When  she  sees 
him,  or  he  is  often  with  us,  she  becomes  distinctly 
feebler  in  body.  When  he  is  absent  she  rises,  so  to 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  371 

speak,  but  never  to  the  level  of  full  health.  If  she 
were  really  vigorous  it  might  not  be  felt." 

"  I  must  say,  Owen,  that  I  had  not  observed  this. 
I  cannot  understand  it." 

"  Nor  I  j  but  it  is  true.  I  have  seen  men  who,  in 
some  mysterious  way,  were  injurious  to  persons  of 
sensitive  organization." 

"  But,  Owen,  is  it  not  natural  that  a  woman  who 
has  been  forced  to  conceal  and  overcome  a  passion 
may  suffer  so  as  to  be  enfeebled  in  the  presence  of 
the  object  of  what  is  a  hopeless  affection?" 

"  Perfectly  true ;  but  this  seems  to  me  more  than 
that.  I  cannot  be  sure  of  my  conclusion.  I  could 
not  prove  it;  only  to  you  can  I  speak  of  it ;  but  I  have 
the  fancy  that,  even  before  this  unhappy  business, 
she  was  curiously  influenced  by  St.  Glair's  presence. 
Understand  me  as  speaking  with  doubt  as  to  Sibyl's 
case.  I  have  certainly  seen  cases  where  the  mere 
presence  of  one  person  did  seriously  affect  the  health 
of  another." 

"  But,"  said  Alice,  "  if  this  idea  once  happened  to 
possess  the  mind  of  a  nervous  person,  might  not  that 
alone  suffice  in  the  future  to  give  rise  to  a  repetition 
of  the  imagined  effect?" 

"  Very  well  put.  Yes.  But  what  would  first  sug 
gest  it  ?  And  the  evil  would  be  no  less  active.  There 
is  more  than  this.  I  have  known  a  vigorous  man 
who  became— and  much  against  his  will— aware  that 
in  the  presence  of  one  other  person,  a  woman  he  dis 
liked,  he  was  unaccountably  weak.  Suppose  it  to  be 
a  delusion.  He  had  no  other.  He  was  a  rather  cold 
blooded,  selfish  banker,  very  able  j  a  man  more  apt  to 


372  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

hurt  than  to  be  hurt.  I  have  known  one  other  case 
where  a  man— a  friend  of  mine,  now  dead— became 
so  weak  as  to  feel  faint  when  a  certain  man  was  in 
the  room.  I  had  occasion  to  know  that  this  person 
very  much  disliked  my  friend.77 

"What  a  dreadful  idea,  Owen  !  It  is  like  the  effect 
cats  produce  on  certain  people.  You  may  remember 
my  uncle  John's  case." 

"  Yes,  I  recall  the  fact.  I  have  seen  one  other  case. 
There  are  people,"  I  added,  "  oh,  only  two  or  three, 
always  women,  who  give  me  when  they  are  present  a 
very  distinct  discomfort,  an  uneasy  sensation  close  to 
a  sense  of  disgust,  even  of  horror.  Two  are  hand 
some,  intelligent  people,  one  is  a  general  favorite." 

"And  you  really  think  that  Sibyl  is  physically 
affected,  and  disastrously,  by  the  mere  presence  of  Mr. 
St.  Clairf" 

"  I  am  inclined  to  think  so.  I  know  of  one  case  of 
a  violent  love-affair  ending  in  an  engagement  to 
marry.  It  was  broken,  and  years  after  I  learned,  not 
as  a  physician,  that  the  woman  came  at  last  to  feel 
that  the  man's  presence  seriously  affected  her  health. 
This  became  so  plain  that  she  at  last  told  him  so. 
Then  he  said,  in  great  distress,  that  this  was  the  second 
time  he  had  learned  he  was  capable  of  injuring  the 
health  of  a  woman  to  whom  he  was  attached.  Both 
the  man  and  the  woman  married  other  persons,  and 
in  neither  instance  was  there  any  similar  experience. 
There  are  several  ways  of  accounting  for  these  facts, 
but  I  am  not  going  to  treat  you  to  a  psychological 
treatise.  I  know  of  one  case  where,  with  return  of 
health,  all  of  this  influence  passed  away  completely; 


DR.  NORTH 'AND  HIS  FRIENDS  373 

and  remember,  dear,  that  the  hysterical  are  curious 
instruments,  and  are  emotionally  susceptible  as  we 
are  not." 

"  But  what  to  do,  Owen  1 " 

"  I  think  we  must  let  Sibyl  go  to  Bar  Harbor.  St. 
Clair  will  not  remain  there  long.  If  she  does  not 
improve  I  shall  talk  frankly  to  Clayborne.  He  is,  as 
we  know,  very  much  attached  to  her.  I  shall  advise 
that  he  take  her  to  Europe,  and  see  what  one  of  the 
iron  spas  will  do  for  her.  I  shall,  or  I  may,  make 
this  my  sole  excuse,  but,  aside  from  St.  Clair,  she  is 
very  ill.  As  to  talking  to  Clayborne  as  I  have  done 
to  you,  it  would  be  useless.  And  besides,  there  is 
more  than  enough  in  her  bodily  state  to  justify  my 
alarm." 

"  Yes,  that  does  seem  the  best  course.  She  must  go 
to  Bar  Harbor.  Poor  child!  If  I  could  only  do 
something  for  her !  " 

"  That,  dear,  is  the  sadness  of  life,  to  wait  helpless. 
It  does  always  seem  as  if  love  must  contain  resources." 

"Owen,  if  ever  people  are  hurtful  to  those  they 
love,— a  dreadful  idea,— do  not  you  think  that  others 
are  like  a  strong  tonic  to  the  world  they  move  in,  and 
above  all  for  those  they  love  ?  I  think  so." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  happier  thought  to  carry  into  sleep. 
I  do  believe  it.  I  think  also  that  if  a  man  as  affec 
tionate  as  Victor  ever  came  to  have  for  Sibyl  that 
which  we  call  love  both  natures  would  prosper  under 
its  wholesome  influence.  But  for  this  she  would  have 
to  be  a  far  more  healthy  woman." 

"  Oh,  I  could  pray  for  that,  Owen." 

"  Let  us  leave  it  all  just  here,  Alice.    Good  night." 

25 


374  DK.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Good  night.  Oh,  what  was  it  Ciayborne  read  to 
us  last  summer  ?  You  were  away.  I  mean  something 
about  good  night.  Wait ;  I  shall  get  it.  When  I 
want  to  recall  a  thing  I  seem  to  sit  like  a  cat  at  a 
mouse-hole.  Presently  it  comes  out,  and  I  have  it. 
Ah,  this  was  it.  It  was  from  his  favorite  poet,  Attar. 
'  Say  not  good  night.  Say  rather  thou  good-by,  for 
thou  shalt  sail  in  sleep  upon  a  sea  which  all  men 
travel  and  which  no  man  knows ;  to-morrow  thou  wilt 
come  again  to  port,  as  from  a  strange  country.7 " 

"  Good  night/7 1  cried  as  she  went,  "  and  not  good- 
by." 

I  sat  down  with  my  cigar,  revolving  many  things 
in  my  mind,  until  I  stumbled  over  some  problems 
which  are  bad  preparations  for  sleep.  Then  I  went 
to  bed. 

I  had  found  it  a  relief  to  speak  out  to  my  wife  as 
to  Sibyl.  I  should  have  hesitated  to  be  as  frank  to 
others.  It  is  hard  to  defend  a  belief  so  eccentric. 

Sibyl,  at  my  desire,  remained  with  us  for  the  few 
weeks  after  Clayborne's  return  and  until  we  went  to 
Maine.  Her  health  continued  uncertain,  but  never 
had  she  seemed  to  me  more  interesting. 

It  was  near  to  the  close  of  May,  and  we  were 
gathered  about  the  open  bow-window  at  Holmwood 
after  a  pleasant  dinner.  St.  Clair  lay  on  the  piazza 
floor,  with  his  head  on  a  cushion.  There  had  been 
one  of  the  long  periods  of  silence  so  natural  to  peo 
ple  as  intimate  as  we.  Presently  something  occurred 
to  St.  Clair.  He  said:  "If  you  are  not  all  sound 
asleep,  I  will  tell  you  something  curious  about  the 
great  bear  Xerxes." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  375 

We  at  once  announced  our  curiosity. 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  him  last  week.  Not  a  word 
about  our  row.  He  asked  for  the  addresses  of  my  two 
friends  who  were  ruined  by  his  partner.  Guess  what 
I  answered." 

Said  Vincent:  "  You  answered,  'Too  late.7" 

Mrs.  Vincent  said :  "  You  sent  them." 

I  said  nothing. 

Clayborne  laughed.     "  You  made  no  reply." 

"  And,  Miss  May  wood,"  asked  St.  Glair,  sitting  up 
and  looking  at  her,  "  what  do  you  say  that  I  said  ? " 

It  is  absurd  to  pretend  to  read  faces  as  do  the  won 
derful  folk  in  novels,  for  commonly  people  do  not 
watch  the  features  of  their  fellows  j  but  to  do  this  is 
a  part  of  the  daily  life  of  my  profession.  Was  there 
in  St.  Glair's  face  and  tones  a  slight  expression  of 
anxiety  ? 

"  You  wrote,"  she  replied,  "  that  it  was  not  neces 
sary,  as  they  had  been  helped  by  others,  and  would 
not  in  any  case  take  alms  of  unjustly  earned  money." 

"By  George!"  cried  St.  Glair.  "I  did.  Not  in 
those  very  words,  but  just  that.  Who  told  you?" 

"  No  one.  Why  should  any  one  tell  me  ?  I  did  not 
say  you  were  right." 

"Was  I  not?" 

"  I  do  not  think  you  were." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  perhaps  thinking  Sibyl's 
frankness  undesirable. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Mrs.  North,  "  if  his  wife  is  really 
making  this  man  better,  and  if  this  be  some  of  the 
fruit.  Or  was  it  spontaneous  ?  As  to  these  especial 
cases,  for  which,  as  I  understand,  Mr.  Crofter  was  not 


376  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

directly  responsible— as  to  these  she  could  not  know, 
that  is,  unless  he  is  more  confiding  than  some  people 
I  might  name." 

" Thanks,  madam/7  I  said.  "Never  was  I  more 
convinced  of  my  own  domestically  applied  wisdom." 

"You  get  off  easy/7  laughed  St.  Glair.  "I  am  a 
daily  victim,  all  about  my  promised  indulgences  quite 
forgotten." 

"There  was  a  certain  story,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent, 
"  also  promised.  Perhaps,  now,  you  might—" 

"Tell  it.  Surely.  You  are  like  a  child  about 
stories."  Indeed,  this  was  true. 

"  Oh,  do,"  she  said  j  "  but,  first,  why  do  you  go  on 
cultivating  this  man's  enmity  ? " 

"  Ah,"  he  answered,  "  it  is  easy  to  ask  questions.  I 
obey  my  nature.  If  I  had  replied  sweetly  I  should 
have  done  myself  a  wrong.  Better  to  make  an  enemy 
of  another  than  to  make  an  enemy  of  yourself." 

"  Would  you  kindly  repeat  that  wisdom  ?  "  laughed 
Vincent.  "  It  sounds  so  proverbial.  No  ?  Well,  then, 
what  of  your  story  ?  " 

"  Yes,  let  us  have  it,"  we  said. 

"Well,  once  on  a  time  I  ran  my  canoe  on  to  the 
beach  at  Muskrat  Bluff,  on  the  north  shore  of  Lake 
Superior.  I  had  paddled  up  of  a  calm  day  from 
Temperance  River,  seeing  nor  man  nor  boat.  By  the 
way,  that  river  was  so  named  by  an  early  voyageur 
because  it  has  no  bar  at  the  mouth.  This  is  true, 
please.  It  was  pretty  cool  at  evening,  and  I  went  up 
a  rough  way  to  the  half-dozen  houses  on  the  bluff  to 
ask  a  supper.  I  fell  into  company  with  a  big,  hand 
some  German  about  thirty-five  years  old.  He  was 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  377 

clearly  an  educated  man,  and  proved  interesting.  Then 
there  was  the  most  magnificent  woman." 

"I  have  been  expecting  her/'  said  I.  " Enter 
Diana." 

"  Bother !  She  was  glorious.  Next  day  I  told  her 
husband  that  she  was  splendid.  He  liked  it.  Some 
men  do  not.  Then  I  said,  'She  is  an  American ; 
where  in  this  wilderness  did  you  find  her?7  This 
man  said,  '  Sit  down,  and  all  of  it  I  will  tell  you.  It 
is  a  tale. 

" l  My  two  uncles  came  here  a  long  while  ago  and 
have  bought  pine  lands  and  made  a  mill.  After  they 
got  to  be  rich  they  wrote  out  to  me  to  come  here  from 
Stettin,  where  we  lived.  I  came.  They  said,  "We 
are  rich.  We  will  not  marry.  We  want  a  young 
woman  up  here.  Go  and  get  married."  I  said,  "  How  1 " 
They  said,  "It  is  here  all  so  easy.  You  put  in  the 
1  Tribune 7  of  Chicago  an  advertisement."  Well,  it 
seemed  easy,  and  they  did  say  every  one  did  it,  and 
there  was  no  need  to  take  any  that  offered. 

"'So  we  made  it  up  this  way:  "A  young  man 
which  is  of  good  appearance  and  will  have  of  money 
enough  wants  to  marry.  Answer  to  Muskrat  Bluff, 
Minnesota."  We  ourselves  were  all  there  was  of 
Muskrat  Bluff.  Indians  don't  count.  It  took  a  month 
to  get  news  from  Chicago.  At  last  the  canoe  we  sent 
to  Duluth  came  back.  There  were  two  pecks  of  let 
ters.  The  old  fellows  went  into  it  in  business  fashion. 
Most  were  fakes,  I  guess.  One  was,  "  We  are  a  board 
ing-school.  We  accept."  Some  sent  photographs.  At 
last  Uncle  Karl  says,  "  Here  she  is,"  and  there  was  a 
photograph  of  my  wife  what  is  now,  and  a  nice  letter 


378  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

to  say  that  if  I  was  handsome  and  a  Protestant  and 
loved  music  to  come  to  Freeburg,  Ohio,  and  settle 
things. 

"  l  So  next  day  I  took  the  letter  and  the  picture  and 
went  up  to  the  head  of  the  lake,  and  so  to  Freeburg, 
a  big  travel.  It  was  night  when  I  arrived.  I  went 
to  the  hotel.  After  supper  I  asked  a  little  if  Miss 
Easterday  was  to  any  known.  So  then  it  seemed  she 
taught  a  public  school.  I  had  the  good  notion  to  say 
I  came  to  get  a  schoolmistress  for  another  town.  All 
they  I  asked  hoped  she  would  not  go.  Next  day, 
after  time  of  school,  I  went  to  see  her.  She  had  a 
room  in  the  hotel,  and  a  little  room  also  next,  where 
I  was  bid  to  come.  The  piano  was  going.  I  stayed 
to  hear.  Ach,  not  Uncle  Karl  plays  better !  Then  she 
sang  "  Der  Erl  Konig."  Himmel,  what  a  voice,  and  in 
German  !  When  I  went  in  I,  that  am  a  big  man,  felt 
small.  But  you  have  seen  her,  and  it  is  nine  years 
ago,  this.  When  she  said  to  sit  and  what  was  it  that 
she  could  do  for  me,  I  felt  a  fool;  but  then  she  had 
written  I  was  to  come.  I  said,  "Fraulein,  I  have 
here  my  advertisement  and  your  letter,  and  here  your 
photograph,  beyond  which  you  are  more  beautiful." 
Then  she  got  red  and  then  pale,  and  said,  "What 
foolishness  is  this  ?  This  is  I,  but  I  wrote  no  letter, 
and  this  is  not  my  hand,  nor  even  like  it.  Here  is  a 
note  of  mine.  See,  see ! " 

"  i  Himmel,  I  saw !  I  could  have  fallen  down.  I 
said,  "  Some  one  has  played  a  cruel  trick  on  you  and 
me.  Who  was  it  ?  "  She  did  not  know.  What  could 
I  say?  I  apologized  so  ill  in  English,  which  then  I 
badly  did  know,  that  she  said  to  speak  in  German. 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  379 

Ach,  she  spoke  it  well !  I  went  away  down-stairs ; 
I  went  very  slow.  I  was  in  love.  I  was  angry.  I 
went  again  to-morrow  to  say  how  sorry  I  was.  When 
she  said  it  must  be  a  man  that  wrote,  I  asked,  "  Who  ? " 
She  turned  very  red  and  would  say  no  more.  After 
that  I  said  to  me,  "  This  is  a  man  that  she  would  not 
listen  to."  That  night  I  talked  about  the  schoolmis 
tress  and  what  a  fine  salary  she  would  have  in  the 
new  school.  By  and  by  one  man,  a  preacher,  said 
the  editor  of  their  newspaper  wanted  to  marry  her, 
but  she  was  hard  to  please.  I  got  it  in  my  head 
he  was  the  man  that  has  put  a  trick  on  me.  I  saw 
that  man.  He  was  little  and  I  am  not.  I  scared  him 
so  that  he  owned  up.  I  made  that  man  sit  down  and 
say  he  was  sorry  on  paper.  I  what  you  call  edited 
him.  Then  I  took  it  to  her.  She  said  I  was  a 
man.  Well,  I  stayed  on,  and  the  end  was  I  got  mar 
ried  and  took  her  home.  And  the  school  is  getting 
on  now.  There  are  four  scholars  in  our  school. 
That  7s  how  it  came  about.' " 

"  A  very  pretty  story,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  Thank 
you." 

"  And  true,"  said  the  narrator. 

Then,  to  our  amusement,  through  the  deepening 
gloom  came  the  strong  voice  of  Clayborne.  During 
the  narration  he  had  been  walking  on  the  porch, 
where  we  sat,  and  was  carefully  nursing  with  eco 
nomical  puffs  the  failing  fires  of  his  big  meerschaum 
pipe.  He  gave  no  warning,  but  began  in  a  sententious 
manner : 

"  Once  on  a  time  there  were  in  Bagdad  one  hundred 
and  twenty-three  tellers  of  tales;  also  there  were 


380  DR.  NORTH   AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

seventy -three  apprentices  learning  the  business.  The 
caliph  said :  i  These  fellows  are  tiresome  and  prey  on 
the  faithful.  For  a  year  they  shall  be  shut  up  in  the 
courtyard  of  the  Mosque  of  Gubmuh  and  tell  their 
tales  to  one  another,  for  it  is  said  that  one  teller  of 
tales  will  not  willingly  listen  to  the  tales  of  another. 
Thus  shall  the  weary  be  avenged  and  the  faithful 
have  repose.'  As  the  caliph  ordered,  all  the  tellers 
of  tales  were  gathered  out  of  the  bazaars  and  the 
baths  and  shut  up  in  the  Mosque  of  Gubmuh.  For 
a  while  a  great  noise  went  up  to  heaven,  and  in  all 
Persia  the  faithful  had  rest  from  them  that  are  the 
fathers  of  lies.  At  the  end  of  a  year  the  court  fool 
besought  pardon  for  the  few  who  were  yet  alive  in 
the  mosque.  Then  the  Ever-Merciful  sent  forth  these 
gray  of  head  and  tale-tired,  assured  that  they  would 
now  have  one  new  tale  to  tell." 

We  greeted  the  parable  joyously,  but  the  scholar, 
declaring  it  was  not  of  his  own,  would  not  tell  whence 
it  came. 

St.  Clair,  laughing,  said :  "  It  is  pretty  true.  I  have 
seen  many  tellers  of  tales,  we  will  say  novelists,  who 
never  read  novels." 

"  I  can  understand  that,"  said  Vincent.  "  Thorn- 
hill  told  me  that  in  a  train  a  man  who  hawked  books 
offered  him  one  of  his  own  novels.  Thornhill  said, 
1 A  poor  book.'  <  No,  sir,'  said  the  vender ;  1 1  have 
read  that  book  myself ;  it  is  a  fine  book.'  The  writer 
assured  him  that,  having  read  it  at  least  a  score 
of  times,  he  knew  better.  Then,  seeing  the  young 
fellow's  perplexed  look,  he  said,  l  The  fact  is,  I  wrote 
it.'  '  Good  gracious !  sir,  when  a  man  writes  a  book 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  381 

does  he  have  to  read  it  twenty  times V  'I  do/  said 
Thornhill." 

"  His  books/'  said  my  wife,  "  show  the  care  he  takes. 
He  told  me  that  after  a  book  was  written  he  kept 
it  in  manuscript  two  years  before  he  allowed  it  to 
appear  in  print." 

"Wise  man/'  said  Clayborne,  "but  he  might  be 
wiser." 

"  For  shame  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  But  I  have 
no  time  to  defend  him.  And  now  I  must  go  home." 


XXII 

'EOPLE  who  play  hard  do  not  always 
work  hard;  but  they  who  work  hard, 
if  they  play  at  all,  are  apt  to  play  hard. 
Clayborne  could  not  play,  and  knew 
not  how  to  be  agreeably  idle,  which  is 
also  a  fine  art.  Neither  did  he  incline  to  any  exercise 
except  riding  the  horse,  and  even  this  he  did  not  do 
because  he  liked  it.  For  these  reasons  we  awaited 
his  arrival  at  Bar  Harbor  with  some  amused  doubt  as 
to  how  we  should  occupy  pleasantly  this  powerful 
intellectual  machine. 

The  Vincents  and  ourselves  had  been  from  mid- 
June  in  two  adjacent  farm-houses,  which  we  had 
contrived  to  make  comfortable.  St.  Clair  was  to 
appear  at  some  indefinite  future  time.  Clayborne 
meant,  on  his  way  north,  to  give  Sibyl  her  first  sight 
of  Niagara.  After  that  we  hoped  to  induce  him  to 
make  a  long  stay  with  us.  I  found  a  quiet  horse 
which  would  carry  his  weight,  and  then  dismissed 
the  matter.  The  two  women  discussed  it  at  greater 
length.  I  overheard  a  little  of  this  talk. 

Said  Anne  Vincent :  "  We  must  feed  him  well.   He 
does  eat  what  they  call  here  '  powerful  much.' " 
"  And,"  said  Alice,  "  he  must  not  read  his  eyes  sore." 
"  Yes.    And  he  must  be  amused.    But  how  f  " 
382 


DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  383 

"  Who  must  be  amoosed  ? "  said  Miss  Mary. 

"  Mr.  Clayborne,  dear." 

"  I  will  amoose  him/'  said  the  child  j  and  she  did, 
devoting  herself  quite  conscientiously  to  the  task. 

They  arrived  that  evening,  having  driven  over 
from  Southwest  Harbor.  I  was  shocked  at  Sibyl's 
appearance.  She  was  very  pale,  and  had  an  un 
pleasant  waxen  look.  After  the  usual  greetings  she 
was  sent,  not  unwillingly,  to  bed.  When,  later  in  the 
evening,  we  had  a  little  chance  to  question  Clayborne, 
he  said  they  had  met  St.  Clair  at  Niagara.  "He 
had  some  queer  notion  as  to  the  curves  of  the  human 
form  resembling  those  of  water.  He  was  photo 
graphing  the  rapids,  and  was  full  of  this  idea." 

"  How  long  were  you  there?"  said  I. 

"  Two  days  alone,"  he  replied,  and  then  St.  Clair 
had  been  with  them. 

"  How  did  Sibyl  like  Niagara?"  I  asked. 

"  Not  at  all.  It  seemed  to  terrify  and  yet  to  attract 
her.  Indeed,  I  could  not  comprehend  the  child.  At 
first  she  would  only  look  at  it  from  a  distance ;  then 
she  went  nearer  and  paused ;  and  then  again  nearer 
and  paused.  At  last  she  stood  still  on  the  brink, 
saying  strange  things  about  it,  and  very  soon  desired 
to  go  away." 

"  The  climate  at  Niagara  does  not  suit  every  one," 
said  I. 

"  No  j  Sibyl  felt  it,  or  said  as  much.  Then  St. 
Clair  came ;  and,  after  a  few  days,  I  was  sure  I  must 
take  her  to  some  other  place." 

My  wife  glanced  at  me  as  he  ceased.  "  We  shall 
make  her  well  here,"  she  said. 


384  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

The  following  afternoon  Alice  informed  me  that 
Mr.  Clayborne  had  brought  two  immense  trunks 
full  of  books.  "  You  may  laugh,"  she  added  j  "  but 
where  are  they  to  be  put— would  the  upper  hall  do?" 

"JMy  dear,  I  decline  hostile  interpretation  of  my 
mirth.  The  more  books,  the  more  easily  will  Clay- 
borne  entertain  Clayborne.  He  is  in  other  hands  at 
present.  Mary  discovered  him  on  the  porch,  deep  in 
a  volume  of  Shaftesbury  on  wit.  I  tried  it  once.  It 
is  a  melancholic  essay." 

Our  friend  had  brought  out  a  half-dozen  books. 
I  never  yet  could  discover  why  he  read  this  or  that 
book.  My  young  lady  tried  one  or  two  in  hope  of 
pictures.  "  Sparkles  of  Glory,  by  John  Saltmarsh 
[fine  name],  Preacher  of  the  Gospel,"  was  her  final 
effort.  At  last  she  succeeded  in  attracting  the 
scholar's  attention,  inquiring  if  that  was  a  nice  book 
for  girls.  Clayborne  said  it  was  not.  Then  the  true 
purpose  of  my  diplomatist  appeared.  I  heard  her 
say: 

"  My  mama  says  I  am  to  amoose  you  evewy  day." 

"  Goodness !  you  mite,  and  how? " 

"  You  come  wis  me." 

He  went.  They  were  soon  building  corn-cob  palaces 
under  the  big  apple-tree. 

It  proved  a  pleasant  alliance.  "  Alice  North,"  he 
said,  "  I  have  discovered  that  in  the  growth  of  a  child 
it  passes  through  the  stages  which  mark  the  upward 
progress  of  humanity.  Mary  is  now  in  the  stone  age. 
We  have  a  cave  on  the  shore.  I  feel  like  getting  the 
loan  of  a  baby,  and  studying  it  from  this  point  of 
view." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  385 

"  I  would,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  I  can  send  you  a 
variety  of  orphans,  all  sizes,  all  colors,  warranted 
barbarians." 

When  we  discovered  that  he  also  took  kindly  to 
the  monotony  of  deep-sea  fishing,  we  felt  more  at  ease. 

Much  relieved,  Vincent  said  to  me :  "  And  now  I 
trust  that  we  shall  have  an  uneventful  summer." 

"We  shall,"  I  said,  " unless  St.  Clair  should  dis 
cover  events,  as  is  probable  enough." 

I  look  back  upon  this  summer  as  one  of  great 
happiness.  Here  were  two  married  couples,  alike 
only  in  their  entire  comprehension  of  what  is  needed 
to  make  marriage  the  perfect  bond  of  noble  natures. 
There  are  households  in  which  the  best  qualities  of 
heart  and  mind  are  so  fitly  joined  together  in  a  part 
nership  of  high  aims  and  dutiful  industries  as  to 
give  at  last  a  sense  of  that  oneness  of  life  which 
realizes  the  true  conception  of  marriage.  If  to  such 
an  alliance  you  grant  well-earned  friendships  and 
definite  pursuits,  rewarded  by  competence  sufficient 
to  allow  of  power  to  give  generously  and  to  indulge 
tastes  which  refine,  and  then  such  leisure  as  keeps 
strong  the  muscles  of  mind  and  body,  you  have  that 
ideal  life  which  for  years  was  enjoyed  by  the  two 
households  I  am  now  discussing. 

To  this  group  were  added  the  rugged  nature,  vast 
attainments,  and  interior  tenderness  of  the  great 
scholar,  the  genius  and  impulsive  nature  of  St.  Clair, 
and  now  the  puzzling  but  attractive  individuality  of 
the  young  woman  whom  Clayborne  had  brought  into 
relation  with  all  of  us. 

We  were  most  happy  when,  as  in  summer,  we  were 


386  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

all  together.  Then,  although  away  from  a  larger  social 
world  which  she  liked  and  keenly  enjoyed,  Anne  Yin- 
cent  was  at  her  best.  She  could  be  heard  at  any 
hour  of  the  day  singing  with  the  affluent  ease  of  a 
bird.  She  knew  and  helped  the  Indians  in  their 
summer  camp  on  the  island.  She  learned  from  them, 
and  taught  little  Mary,  to  make  baskets.  She  culti 
vated  a  wild  garden,  fetched  the  side-saddle  plants  and 
orchids  from  the  swamps,  and  showed  Mary  the  savage 
trap  the  Drosera  set  for  gnats.  It  was  a  full  life,  and 
supremely  capable  of  diffusing  joy.  My  wife's  quick 
wit  and  her  sagacious  critical  power  added  a  large 
intellectual  charm,  felt  even  by  the  somewhat  despotic 
mind  of  the  historian,  and  respected  even  when  she 
failed,  as  sometimes  chanced,  to  be  able  to  explain 
or  defend  her  conclusions.  Mrs.  Vincent  was  in  a 
large  way  charitable,  but  did  not  find  agreeable 
close  relations  with  the  poor.  Alice  met  them  with 
a  certain  respectful  tenderness  so  delicately  fine  as 
always  to  preserve  her  helpfulness  from  seeming  in 
trusive.  Here  in  the  summer  she  had,  as  at  home, 
needy  people  who  humbly  adored  this  ever-gracious 
woman. 

Then,  also,  we  profited — when  he  chose  to  appear — 
by  St.  Glair's  amiable  charm  and  large  knowledge  of 
art,  and  by  his  many  social  gifts ;  the  weightier  in 
terest  of  Clayborne's  cyclopedic  memory  and  Sibyl's 
quaintly  acting  intelligence  contributing  their  share 
of  companionable  interests.  Thus  humanly  provided, 
we  took  up  our  summer  life  of  walking,  sailing, 
canoeing,  fishing,  music,  and  talk.  Some  of  its 
memories  are  worth  recalling. 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  387 

Sibyl,  improving  again  in  health,  was  at  her  best, 
and  was  full  of  her  surprising  talk.  I  chanced  one 
day  to  ask  how  she  liked  Niagara.  She  replied  that 
it  kept  her  in  a  state  between  terror  and  adoration, 
as  one  might  feel  when  face  to  face  with  some  mighty 
spirit  of  another  world.  It  did  seem  to  her  as  if  here 
the  silent  earth  had  found  a  voice.  It  seemed  to 
say: 

"  Come,  come.  You  are  a  part  of  me.  Come  now." 
"And  I  did  want  to  come,  to  leap  into  the  turmoil 
of  those  waters.  I  fear  that  I  alarmed  the  master." 

I  looked  at  her  steadily.  The  talk  seemed  to  re 
new  the  emotion  described  in  so  wild  a  way. 

"  Is  that  temptation  to  leap  over  unusual  ? "  she  said. 
"I  heard  of  one  woman  who  looked  down  at  the 
cataract,  and  then  ran  away  until  she  fell  exhausted." 

"No,  it  is  not  rare,"  I  said;  "but,  to  be  honest,  my 
dear  Sibyl,  you  have  at  times  a  tendency  to  energetic 
statement.  All  this  jejune  stuff  about  mother  earth 
sounds  a  good  deal  like  St.  Clair." 

"  Oh,  it  was  he  who  said  it,"  she  returned  j  "  but  I 
felt  it.  He  often  says  what  I  feel.  It  does  not 
sound  foolish  to  me." 

When  thus  she  spoke  we  were  near  the  foot  of 
Newport  Mountain.  Any  higher  ascent  was  for 
bidden  her  by  the  excessive  fatigue,  or  rather  exhaus 
tion,  to  which  exercise  gave  rise.  Clayborne  was 
wandering  among  the  trees,  having  declined  to  go 
up  the  hill  with  my  wife  and  the  Vincents.  As  we 
talked,  Sibyl  was  lying  on  a  bed  of  moss,  with  her 
animated  face  set  against  the  impassive  sternness  of 
the  gray  rock  behind  her. 


388  DR.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Is  it  natural  ? "  she  said— "  this  impulse  ? " 

"Well,  the  mere  impulse  is  common,  and  per 
haps  one  may  therefore  admit  that  it  is  a  part  of 
one's  nature ;  if  of  original  or  acquired  nature  I  do 
not  know.  But,"  I  said,  "  to  answer  you  further,  all 
men  and  women  have  at  times  unwholesome  possi 
bilities.  The  origin  of  this  one  I  cannot  trace. 
Danger  allures  many  minds.  '  The  marge  of  peril 's 
sweet/  But  danger  does  not  always  involve  the  dis 
tinct  idea  of  an  end  to  earthly  hope.  This  does. 
The  wholesome-minded  do  not  want  to  die." 

"  No,  no,"  she  replied.  "  And  yet,  as  death  is  natu 
ral,  may  not  this  half -felt  desire  be  a  relic  of  some 
thing  educated  out  of  us  by  generations  of  control, 
by  the  despotism  of  long-held  beliefs?  Does  not  a 
passing  train,  a  stormy  sea,  a  loaded  pistol,  give  us 
the  same  mingled  desire  and  fear  ? " 

I  glanced  at  the  beautiful  face  with  its  marble 
pallor.  "The  thought  is  not  a  wholesome  guest, 
Sibyl.  I  think  it  is  no  latent  desire  to  die  that 
prompts  to  leap  from  a  height.  Delire  des  hauteurs 
the  French  call  it;  but  this  helps  us  to  understand 
as  little  as  labels  generally  do.  Certainly  there  are 
present. the  fear  of  falling  and  the  strange  tempta 
tion  to  fall." 

"  But  sometimes  the  impulse  to  do  that  which  must 
result  in  death  overcomes  the  conservative  instinct." 

"  Yes.     Well  stated." 

"  I  had  it  until  I  feared  to  stay.  I  think  it  inex 
plicable." 

"  Perhaps  it  is.  Children  do  not  have  it.  I  laughed, 
but  it  was  surely  a  weird  idea  of  St.  Glair's,  that 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  389 

this  mighty  voice  of  Niagara  is  the  hoarse  call  of 
mother  earth,  eager  to  reclaim  her  children." 

"  And  I  did  want  to  say,  l  Yes,  I  am  here.  I  come. 
Take  me.'" 

•"  Hush  !  "  I  said.     "  That  is  not  wise." 

"  I  know  it.  But  is  n't  it  sometimes  a  relief  to  be 
foolish  ? " 

"Yes;  but  not  to  toy  with  follies  which  are  play 
ing  the  dance  of  death.  You  are  not  one  to  trifle 
with  the  abnormal." 

"  No,  that  is  true.     I  know  it  well." 

"  We  have  had  a  most  unsatisfactory  talk,"  said  I. 
"  Eternity  is  less  familiar  and  not  more  astounding 
to  me  than  the  complexity,  the  boundless  products, 
of  our  moral  and  mental  mechanisms.  There  are 
times  when  I  seem  to  hang  awed  over  the  abyss  of 
my  own  mind,  with  wonder  near  akin  to  terror. 
That  out  of  this  world  of  thought,  feelings,  and  mem 
ories  should  come,  to  the  most  healthy  nature,  at 
times  inexplicable  desires,  moments  of  unreason,  im 
pulses  which  defy  analytic  research,  even  brief  in 
sanities,  is  not  strange  to  me.  I  wonder,  indeed,  at 
the  permanence  of  mental  health,  even  at  the  marvel 
of  bodily  soundness,  at  the  myriad  automatisms,  bal 
anced,  interregulated,  preservative  •  how  this  checks 
that,  and  that  this;  how,  to  fractions  of  a  degree, 
temperatures  remain  the  same  from  pole  to  equator. 
But  this  is  all  commonplace.  If  Hamlet  wondered, 
we  have  even  greater  cause  to  wonder." 

She  seemed  to  hesitate  a  little,  and  then  said : 

"It  is  anything  but  commonplace  to  me.  Pray 
go  on.  I  am  really  interested.  I  was  thinking  of 

26 


390  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

what  my  cousin  said  last  week.  It  was  not  quite  like 
his  usual  thought.  He  said :  l  If  I,  the  man,  could 
have  a  talk  with  my  boy  self,  as  he  or  I  once  was, 
I  do  not  think  I  should  recognize  myself  in  him.' 
Then  he  said :  '  If  the  boy  could  see  what  manner  of 
man  he  would  become  at  seventy,  how  much  more 
would  he  be  astonished  to  find  himself  the  same  and 
yet  not  the  same/  " 

"It  might  not  be  pleasant,  Sibyl.  Curiously 
enough,  I  was  on  the  point  of  speaking  of  individu 
ality.  I  mean  of  the  amazing  way  in  which  every 
man  remains  a  thing  apart  from  every  other  man, 
with  constant  conformity  to  type.  It  is  seen  in  all 
life  to  the  lowest  nomad.  Years  ago,  before  we 
knew  you,  we  talked  a  long  while  about  this  ques 
tion." 

"My  cousin  has  mentioned  it  more  than  once 
lately ;  he  told  me  you  had  said  that  even  the  rattle 
snakes  in  your  laboratory  were  different  in  character 
one  from  another.  One  was  brave,  one  timid ;  one 
had  a  good  memory,  one  had  not." 

"  I  recall  the  discussion.  But  if  no  two  leaves  are 
the  same,  no  two  cells  in  their  structure  exactly 
alike,  we  need  feel  no  surprise  that  in  the  whole 
range  of  existence  the  individuality  of  the  creature 
is  even  more  securely  preserved  than  is  the  continuity 
of  specific  forms.  As  this  differentiation  is  marked  in 
man,  so  in  fact  is  it  in  every  sun  or  star.  Each  is 
distinct,  and  no  two  created  things  from  nomad  to 
planet  are  identically  the  same.  I  remember,  Sibyl, 
that  when  we  had  reached  this  point  my  old  friend 
stopped  us  with  a  strange  question." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  391 

"  Oh,  dear  Dr.  North,  what  was  it  *  He  does  puzzle 
me  at  times." 

"What  he  first  said  was  that  civilized  man  was 
endlessly  engaged  in  efforts  to  produce  complete 
identity  of  product,  just  the  opposite  of  the  constant 
effort  of  nature." 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  said  Sibyl,  quickly.  "  To  make  needles 
or  pins  alike,  to  make  watches  or  engines  so  as  to 
deprive  the  thing  made  of  individuality." 

"  Yes,"  I  went  on ;  "  but  although  he  practically 
succeeds,  he  still  fails,  even  in  machines,  to  secure 
unassailable  identity." 

"  It  is  a  curious  thought,"  said  Sibyl.  "  What  was 
the  question  asked  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  I,  "  if  I  can  state  it.  '  If  indi 
viduality  be  a  universal  quality  of  all  things  in  the 
universe  as  we  see  it,  does  not  this  imply  individual 
ity  in  the  Creator,  and  therefore  oneness?'  I  said, 
not  of  necessity,  but  Vincent  took  the  other  side, 
while  St.  Glair  promptly  remembered  an  engage 
ment,  and  left  us  deep  in  a  noble  battle  which  has 
had  no  end." 

As  I  spoke,  Clayborne,  reappearing  from  the  deeper 
woods  around  us,  asked  of  what  we  were  talking. 

"  Oh,  we  were  diving  deep,"  said  Sibyl,  gaily. 

"  We  were,"  said  I,  "  discussing  the  universality  of 
the  law  of  individual  differences.  I  was  keeping  for 
you  two  questions :  If  no  two  things  we  see  are  iden 
tical,  neither  is  it  likely  that  any  two  ultimate  mole 
cules  or  atoms  are  the  same,  despite  the  belief  attained 
by  our  physical  investigations." 

"  That  is  a  bold  thought.     It  would  mean  that  a 


392  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

dozen  specimens  of  pure  iron,  for  example,  would 
differ.  I  must  think  it  over.  What  is  the  other 
question  1 " 

I  said :  "  That  may  wait." 

"  Very  good.  Come,  Sibyl,"  he  said,  giving  her 
his  hand.  "  Come  with  me.  It  is  not  far.  I  want 
to  show  you  what  the  ice-chisel  and  -plane  have  done. 
I  will  show  you  where  the  granite  rocks  record  the 
giant  march  of  the  glaciers  and  their  alterative  effect 
on  the  earth's  surface." 

By  and  by  we  stood  with  him  on  one  of  these 
graven  slabs. 

"  Poor  old  earth,"  said  Sibyl,  looking  down  at  the 
deep  furrows  which  the  slowly  moving  ice  had  plowed 
in  the  stone. 

As  she  spoke  I  was  aware  of  a  man  in  gray  knicker 
bockers.  He  had  a  well-bronzed  face,  which  neatly 
framed  large  eyes  of  deep  blue.  His  hair  was  curly. 
He  uncovered  as  he  spoke— a  man  of  forty  years,  I 
fancied. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said.  "  I  am  off  the  trail.  I  have 
lost  my  way  in  coming  down." 

"  It  is  here  to  the  left,"  said  I. 

As  he  spoke  I  recalled  him  to  mind.  I  remember 
voices  well,  faces  badly,  and  those  vexing  labels, 
names,  scarce  at  all. 

"  It  is  Af  ton,"  said  I. 

"What!  Owen  North!  How  delightful  to  see 
you !  " 

"Miss  Maywood,"  said  I,  "Mr.  Clayborne;  an  old 
acquaintance,  Dr.  Afton." 

The  doctor  bowed  to  Miss  Maywood,  and  shook 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  393 

hands  with  the  historian,  saying,  "  It  is  very  pleasant 
to  meet  a  man  with  whose  thoughts  one  has  been 
long  familiar,  to  meet  him  face  to  face." 

"But  apt  to  disappoint,"  said  Clay  borne,  "or  at 
least  I  have  found  it  so." 

"Naturally,"  said  Afton.  " Talk  is  the  child  of  the 
minute,  a  book  the  adult  of  thoughtful  hours." 

" Let  us,"  said  I,  "go  back  to  our  rocks  and  sit 
down.  We  are  waiting  for  friends  who  have  gone  up 
Newport  Mountain." 

"  I  met  them,"  said  Afton.  "  Two  handsome  women 
and  a  man  with  character  in  his  face  writ  plain." 

"  One  is  his  wife,"  said  I,  "  one  is  mine." 

We  sat  down. 

"  Indeed  !  You  are  to  be  congratulated  no  matter 
which  one  it  may  be." 

"  But  you,  too,  are  married." 

"  I  was.  My  wife  has  been  dead  these  many  years, 
and  I  have  been  a  rolling  stone  ever  since." 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  I.     "  Are  you  staying  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  a  farm-house,  and  I  am  very  comfortable 
except  that  my  host  is  named  Afton.  I  dislike  that. 
I  have  a  distinct  and  ridiculous  prejudice  against 
strangers  who  own  my  name.  I  feel  it  to  be  a 
liberty." 

"  Ah  !  "  laughed  Sibyl,  "  I  like  it.  It  seems  a  com 
pliment." 

Dr.  Afton  glanced  at  her,  briefly  curious. 

"  You  must  come  and  see  us,"  I  said.  "  When  last 
we  met— it  was  years  ago— you  were  what  you  called 
a  character  doctor." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  "  said  Clayborne.    "  Now  I  remember. 


394  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

North  told  us  about  you.  I  was  interested  in  some  of 
your  papers." 

"  Does  it  seem  to  you,  Miss  May  wood,  an  odd  busi 
ness  1 "  asked  Af ton. 

"No ;  Dr.  North  told  me  of  it  once.  It  must  have 
been  an  absorbing  occupation." 

"  I  gave  it  up.  It  became  quite  too  absorbing.  For 
most  of  my  patients  it  proved  practically  valueless." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Miss  May  wood.  "  Why  should  that 
have  been  1 " 

"  I  certainly  had  some  capacity  to  read  character, 
but  when  you  present  a  man  with  a  true  picture  of 
himself  he  no  more  believes  it  is  he  himself  than  does 
a  monkey  who  first  sees  himself  in  a  mirror." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  cried.  "  What  a  terrible  thing  an 
honest  moral  mirror  would  be  !  Dreadful  to  see  our 
selves,  even  t  as  in  a  glass  darkly.7 " 

"  Sibyl,  Sibyl,"  said  Clayborne,  "  be  careful  of  your 
quotations.  I  suppose  the  feminine  mind  turns  in 
stinctively  to  mirrors.  You  mean  to  quote,  l  For  now 
we  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then  face  to  face.' 
And  don't  misapply  quotations.  Of  course  it  should 
read,  not  a  glass,  but  a  mirror.  The  word  '  through ' 
puzzled  me  until  I  chanced  to  have  an  antique  metal 
mirror  repolished.  Then  I  saw  that  not  only  did  it 
reflect  darkly,  but  also  that  the  image  seemed  to  be 
remote,  as  if  seen  through  something.  St.  Paul  was 
a  good  observer." 

"  Even  with  your  statement,"  I  said,  "  the  transla 
tion,  or  the  comparison  if  the  translation  be  correct, 
is  not  satisfactory." 

"Yes,"  returned  Clayborne.     "Whether  it  means 


DE.   NORTH   AND   HIS  FRIENDS  395 

that  we  shall  see  our  own  self -reality,  long  masked  on 
earth,  or  shall  have  a  larger  view  of  all  things,  I  am 
not  clear." 

"Once,"  said  Afton,  "in  the  delirium  of  a  fever, 
I  saw  myself  facing  me.  It  was  most  unpleasant.  I 
was  a  huge,  magnified  figure,  with,  as  it  seemed  to 
me,  all  my  worst  qualities  featured  on  my  face.  I 
cried  out  in  my  terror  to  the  thing  to  go  away.  It 
said,  l  How  can  a  man  depart  from  himself  ?  I  will 
shrink  and  go  back  to  you,  whence  I  came.' " 

"  How  dreadful !  "  cried  Sibyl.  "  That  might  appall 
the  saintliest  soul." 

"  If  the  text  means  that  it  is  our  truer  selves  we 
are  to  see,  one  likes,"  said  Afton,  "  to  take  refuge  in 
the  next  verse,  that,  of  those  things  which  abide,  hope 
is  one,  and  to  feel  also  that  when  we  see  ourselves 
face  to  face  the  charity  of  the  great  Maker  will  be 
also  there." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Sibyl ;  "  and  now  let  me  ask  you, 
if  I  may,  was  there  no  value  in  the  work  you  did  as  a 
character  doctor  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  my  most  useful  errand,"  said  Afton,  "  was  in 
advising  as  to  peculiar  children.  It  is  they  who  are 
most  likely  to  develop  original  powers,  and  it  is  they 
who  are  the  most  apt  to  be  injured  by  the  procrustean 
system  of  schools.  There  should  be  a  psychological 
consultant  for  schools.  True  education  considers  in 
dividuality.  Teachers  rarely  do  that  or  can  do  that." 

At  this  time  the  Vincents  and  my  wife  appeared 
through  the  trees.  Afton  was  duly  presented.  Sibyl 
was  set  on  her  pony,  and  we  walked  homeward.  Af 
ton  soon  fell  into  chat  with  Vincent  about  the  East, 


396  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

which  Vincent  talked  of  visiting.  After  a  cordial 
invitation  to  call  on  us,  we  left  the  doctor  at  the  vil 
lage  and  continued  on  our  homeward  way. 

The  evening  after  this  encounter  we  were  seated 
on  the  porch,  saying  little  and  watching  the  colors 
fade  from  the  hills  of  the  mainland.  Clayborne  was 
reading,  indifferent  to  sunsets. 

"  Anne,"  exclaimed  Vincent,  "  you  will  be  glad  to 
hear  that  Dr.  Afton  will  call  this  evening.  I  met 
him  in  the  village  to-day.  To  my  amusement,  he 
asked  who  was  a  man  named  Crofter.  He  had  met 
him  while  walking.  I  said  merely  that  he  was  a  rich 
man  from  the  West.  Then  Afton  said  he  was  here  in 
his  yacht." 

" The  Night  Hawk"  growled  Clayborne,  looking  up 
from  his  book.  "  I  thought  that  here  we  were  insured 
against  such  vermin." 

"  What  can  bring  him  here  ? "  queried  my  wife. 

"  Probably  to  call  on  you,"  said  I. 

"  Owen,"  she  said  with  affected  gravity,  "  there  are 
some  subjects  too  serious  for  jest.  This  is  one.  Do 
you  propose  asking  the  man  to  dine  with  us  ?  " 

"  Oh,  if  you  would  !  "  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"More  strange  things  have  happened,"  said  Vin 
cent,  "  but  this  seems  improbable." 

"  How  could  it  come  about  ? "  said  my  wife.  "  If  I 
put  you  all  on  an  imagination  committee  of  ways  and 
means,  you  could  not  dream  me  a  possibility  of  this." 

"  A  perilous  illustration,  my  dear.  Dreams  involve 
queer  possibilities,  and,  after  all,  everything  is  pos 
sible  to  audacity  and  money.  Given  a  man  of  certain 
means  and  an  uncertain  past,  give  him,  say,  fifty  mil- 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  397 

lions  of  dollars,  and,  with  time,  decent  manners,  and 
the  chances  of  life,  he  will  break  through  at  least  the 
outer  barriers  of  any  society." 

"I  often  wonder,"  said  Clay  borne,  "how  the  chil 
dren  of  the  great  robbers  of  finance  regard  their  in 
herited  plunder.  Even  if  they  know  all  that  can  be 
known,  are  themselves  honest  and  incapable  of  the 
greed  of  accumulation,  what  can  they  do?  Restitu 
tion  is  impossible." 

"  Not  altogether,"  said  Alice ;  "  but  who  ever  heard 
of  it  as  having  been  made  ?  The  children  of  the  rob 
ber  would  admit  his  guilt  by  such  restitution." 

"  I  knew,"  said  Vincent,  "  a  great  scamp  who  cheated 
a  number  of  people  and,  at  last,  his  partner.  I  acted 
for  him  in  the  only  just  lawsuit  he  ever  had.  He  lost 
it.  I  was  very  young.  He  came  to  me  later  about 
a  very  scaly  business.  I  refused  to  help  him.  When 
he  died  he  surprised  every  one  by  leaving  me,  'for 
reasons  known  to  me'  (so  ran  his  will),  ten  thousand 
dollars.  I  was  very  clear  about  it,  and  so,  too,  was 
Anne  Vincent.  I  could  not  keep  it.  I  offered  these 
ill-gotten  gains  to  the  partner  he  had  cheated.  He 
said,  '  No.' " 

Upon  this  my  wife  remarked:  "I  am  sure  Anne 
took  it  for  those  all-devouring  orphans." 

"Yes,  I  did;  and  I  wish  Xerxes  would  leave  Fred 
a  million." 

"Please  not,  my  dear,  indiscreet  Fate,"  said  Vin 
cent,  smiling.  "That  might  not  turn  out  as  well. 
The  answer  to  limitless  temptation  is  not  always 
easy." 

"  Not  for  all  men,"  said  Anne  Vincent,  proudly. 


398  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  When/'  said  I,  "  I  was  a  boy,  we  used  to  be  served 
with  butter,  chickens,  nuts,  and  apple-butter  by  a 
farmer.  He  insisted  on  being  paid  every  week.  When 
asked  to  render  an  account  once  a  month  he  said, '  No. 
I  guess  I  am  week-honest.  I  don't  know  as  I  am 
month-honest.'  He  guessed  he  was  n't  goin'  to  ex 
periment  none  with  his  conscience." 

"  That  million,  say  five,  twentj^  millions,  might  it 
not  alter  the  case?"  It  was  Clayborne  who  asked, 
smiling. 

"  Not  for  Fred  Vincent,"  said  Anne,  coldly,  dislik 
ing  even  the  discussion  of  such  a  question. 

"  No,  by  George  !  "  said  Clayborne. 

"Ah,"  laughed  Vincent,  "I  like  others  to  have 
boundless  confidence  in  me.  It  is  a  very  good  tonic. 
And  suppose,  Owen,  I  were  abruptly  to  do  some  im 
moral  thing,  to  lie  largely,  to  steal  in  some  way,  to 
contradict  the  monotony  of  the  decently  straight  life, 
what  would  you  say  ?  " 

"  Say  ?  I  should  say  that  in  your  case  it  was  the 
beginning  of  insanity.  In  the  cases  of  most  of  the 
men  who  thus  go  wrong,  the  previous  life  has  been 
a  long  concealment  of  lesser  crime.  I  am  a  believer 
in  the  despotism  of  moral  habits.  I  do  not  think 
that  a  man  who  has  lived  a  life  of  rectitude  since 
boyhood  does  ever  become  abruptly  base  or  fraudu 
lent." 

"  I  wish,"  said  Anne  Vincent,  "  you  would  choose 
some  other  human  example  of  wicked  possibilities 
than  Fred  Vincent." 

"  You  may  take  me,"  said  I. 

"  Unless  I,  too,  object,"  cried  Alice. 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  399 

"I  have  been  reflecting/'  said  Clayborne,  "that  if 
some  robber  willed  me  his  evilly  gotten  gains  I  would 
accept  them  and  keep  them,  and  use  them  as  I  would 
any  other  product  of  lucky  accident.  Certainly  I 
should  not  give  them  away  in  bulk  and  at  once.  As 
to  what  Owen  says  I  agree.  Sudden  financial  or 
other  baseness  in  a  high-minded  man  is  as  improbable 
as  the  display  of  refined  honor  in  the  habitually  base. 
Habit  is  the  best  moral  legislator." 

"  Ah,  here  comes  our  character  doctor,"  said  I.  "  I 
was  about  to  ask  whether  there  is  not,  should  not  be, 
a  statute  of  limitations  as  to  the  punishment  of  ini 
quities  like  those  of  Xerxes." 

"  For  shame,"  said  my  wife. 

"  But  there  is,  there  must  be,"  said  Clayborne,  per 
sistently. 

" Shall  a  man  never  forgive  himself?"  laughed 
Afton,  as  we  welcomed  him.  "  He  usually  does,  even 
to  seventy  times  seven." 

"  You  are  both  unpleasantly  confusing,"  said  my 
wife,  "  and  you  know  it,  too." 

"Yes,  we  do,"  cried  Afton,  as  he  accepted  a  cigar 
and  sat  down  to  talk  with  Mrs.  Vincent.  During  a 
pause  I  heard  her  say,  "  You  saw  Mr.  Xerxes  Crofter, 
I  think,  Dr.  Afton." 

"  Yes,  I  mentioned  having  met  him.  We  met  by 
odd  chance  on  the  top  of  Dry  Mountain.  I  went  up 
a  rough  way  not  very  good  for  timid  climbers.  I  sat 
down  under  a  rock  shelter  to  get  out  of  the  wind,  and 
found  I  had  lost  my  pipe.  After  a  little  I  saw  a  big 
man  come  up  the  same  way.  He  looked  hot,  and  his 
clothes  had  suffered  in  the  ascent.  A?  I  lay  flat  be- 


400  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

hind  a  rock  amid  the  berry-bushes,  he  did  not  see  me. 
He  sat  down  only  a  few  feet  away.  I  could  see  his 
side  face.  I  set  myself  to  study  him.  Who  was  he, 
and  what  ?  How  often  one  does  this  when  traveling ! 
He  took  out  a  gold  cigar-case  and  then  a  gold  match 
box.  He  said,  l  Damn  that  fellow !  Not  a  match.  If 
he  does  it  again  out  he  goes.'  I  said  to  myself,  i  He 
is  rich,  hard,  luxurious,  has  many  servants.'  He  tried 
a  dry  smoke.  He  looked  over  the  great  hills  and 
away  up  the  valley  cloven  by  ice  long  ago.  He  looked 
past  Bubble  Pond  and  Eagle  Lake  through  to  the  cleft 
where  the  sun  was  setting  in  mists  of  scarlet  and  gold 
on  the  distant  bay.  It  seemed  not  to  interest  him. 
He  took  out  a  bulky  pocket-book  and  a  pencil,  and 
appeared  to  be  absorbed  in  calculations.  I  had  seen 
enough.  I  said,  '  May  I  offer  you  a  match  ? 7  It  would 
have  startled  me.  He  turned  tranquilly,  and  said, 
'Will  I?  You  bet,'  as  he  came  over  and  sat  down 
by  me.  He  smoked  for  a  minute  before  it  occurred 
to  him  to  offer  me  a  cigar.  Then  we  talked.  He  said 
he  knew  you— I  mean  Mr.  Vincent  and  the  doctor.  I 
fancy  he  means  to  call  on  you." 

"  Indeed !  "  said  my  wife. 

"  I  found  him  interesting.  I  know  nothing  of 
his  history,  except  that  he  is  perilously  rich.  He 
thought  he  would  buy  the  island,  and  build  a  rail 
road  and  a  big  hotel." 

"  And  what  else  ? "  said  I. 

"A  character  undergoing  modification;  a  man  in 
a  new  country,  making  intelligent  discoveries.  The 
vigorous  intellect  may  remain  late  in  life  valuably 
receptive  of  novel  ideas." 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  401 

"  That  is,  mentally,"  said  Vincent ;  "  certainly  not 
as  to  morals  ? " 

"  I  am  not  sure  as  to  that.  In  your  profession 
it  is  not  rare  to  see  the  unscrupulous  lawyer  when 
he  has  won  money  and  success  begin  to  hanker  after 
respectability  and  become,  as  to  obvious  conduct, 
careful  and  scrupulous." 

"Yes 5  I  have  seen  that.  How  deep  it  goes  I  do 
not  know.77 

"  Oh,  the  longer  it  lasts  the  deeper  it  goes,77  con 
tinued  Afton.  "  The  man  gets  into  a  rut  of  good 
behavior.  Some  cause  or  causes  must  be  at  work  to 
change  this  strong  animal,  I  saw  that  plainly.  He 
is  making  new  habits.  What  is  the  motive,  or  what 
are  the  motives  ? 77 

"  A  woman,  a  wife,'7  said  Anne  Vincent.  "  Wives 
are  great  alteratives  for  good  or  ill.  The  woman  he 
married,  or  who  married  him,  is  a  well-bred  lady. 
She  was  a  widow  without  a  penny.  She  has  two 
boys  whom  she  was  struggling  to  educate.  One,  who 
is  about  fourteen,  took  a  prize  in  a  school  for  manual 
training.  The  prize  was  given  by  Mr.  Crofter.  He 
saw  the  mother,  and  was  easily  captured.  I  heard  all 
this  last  month.  I  should  like  to  see  the  man.77 

"  You  will,  I  fancy.  He  is  crude,  rather  coarse, 
humorous  in  an  excessive  way,  free-handed— has  sud 
denly  discovered  that  money  can  buy  certain  agreeable 
things.  He  told  me  that  he  had  found  out— oh,  he  is 
queerly  frank— he  had  found  out  that  it  was  pleasant 
to  have  people  like  you.  He  spoke  as  if  he  had  made 
a  discovery  and  meant  to  invest  in  affection.  I  fancy 
him  to  have  been  previously  given  over  to  money- 


402  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

making,  and  as  enjoying  the  game  to  the  utter  exclu 
sion  of  all  the  gentlenesses  of  life." 

"That  is  nearly  true/'  said  I. 

"He  would  terrify  me  like  Niagara,"  said  Sibyl. 
"  But  I  can  understand  the  woman's  marrying  him." 

"  I  cannot,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"You  have  a  right  to  be  puzzled,"  said  Afton. 
"  It  could  not  have  been  a  marriage  of  mere  selfish 
interest.  These  big,  strong,  bold  men  remind  me  in 
their  power  and  amorality  of  the  resistless  forces  of 
nature,  of  a  cyclone,  of  a  cataract,  of  a  glacier." 

"  He  himself  spoke  once  of  men  of  his  kind  as 
being  like  glaciers,"  remarked  Clayborne. 

"They  attract  certain  women,"  said  Afton.  "I 
should  guess  Mrs.  Crofter  to  be  a  slight,  refined 
woman,  with  gentle  ways,  and  probably  with  a  sturdy 
basis  of  character." 

"  Yes,  that  is  all  true,"  said  Anne  Vincent,  "  ex 
cept  that  she  is  stout." 

"  That  is  incidental  and  unimportant.  She  has," 
he  added,  "  a  rather  large  mouth,  full  lips— 

"  Good  gracious !  Yes !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Vincent. 
"  I  shall  be  afraid  of  you.  How  do  you  know  her 
mouth  to  be  large  ? " 

"  And  well  formed." 

"  How  do  you  guess  that?" 

"  How?  I  have  seen  him.  He  will  have  to  behave 
himself.  While  we  are  on  this  subject,  may  I  tell  you 
a  long  story  ?  " 

"  We  adore  long  stories,"  said  my  wife. 

"  Well,  this  is  a  queer  one.  It  illustrates  a  different 
type  from  that  of  Mrs.  Xerxes.  The  man  was  of 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  403 

Crofter's  tribe— a  variation  of  the  type.  He  made  a 
great  fortune  suddenly  by  taking  for  a  debt  a  patent 
supposed  to  be  of  small  value.  Then  he  married  a 
pretty  woman  without  means  of  her  own.  She  was 
deeply  in  love  with  him.  I  may  add  that,  unlike  the 
man  Xerxes,  he  was  singularly  handsome.  He  soon 
began  to  distribute  his  affection  and  his  money.  The 
woman  was  jealous  and  passionate.  At  last  she  be 
came  hysterical— the  mental  type  of  hysteria,  North. 
Her  suspicions  went  far  beyond  his  misdeeds.  When, 
after  some  brief  unfaithfulness,  he  returned  to  re 
claim  the  affection  of  his  wife,  he  was  made  to  under 
stand  that  love  is  not  eternal  or  pardon  an  unlimited 
quantity.  The  woman  was  becoming  dangerous.  Then 
he  came  to  me.  He  was  very  frank,  and  I  equally 
frank.  As  he  was  in  a  penitent  mood,  he  promised 
everything.  I  suppose  he  told  his  wife  he  had  seen 
me,  and  she  was  taken  with  the  idea.  At  all  events, 
she  came  to  see  me.  But  I  am  relating  a  long 
story." 

We  begged  him  to  continue. 

"I  found  the  woman  pleasant,  well-mannered- 
much  the  superior  of  the  man.  She,  too,  told  me  her 
history.  I  said  he  had  pledged  himself  to  decent 
behavior.  '  It  will  not  last  long/  she  said.  '  I  can 
tell  at  once  when  he  is  going  astray.  I  am  fond  of 
photography.  Last  week  he  looked  over  some  fancy 
photographs  I  made  of  a  pretty  girl,  a  dressmaker  of 
mine  whom  I  use  as  a  model.  I  saw  at  once  he  was 
captured.  Yesterday  I  missed  the  pictures.  I  have 
stood  it  pretty  long.  I  cannot  go  on  much  longer. 
Life  is  valueless.  I  have  no  child,  no  ties  but  this 


404  DR.   NORTH   AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

one.  Let  him  take  care.'  I  looked  at  the  woman's 
face  and  read  a  danger-signal.  He  soon  gave  her 
fresh  cause  to  be  jealous.  A  few  weeks  later  she 
asked  him  to  go  to  a  photographic  shop  and  buy  her 
certain  drugs,  among  them  one  much  used  by  pho 
tographers—the  cyanide  of  potassium,  a  swift  and 
deadly  poison.  The  day  after  he  had  brought  her 
the  photographic  materials,  she  mailed  a  note  to  me, 
and  then  went  to  bed,  stating  that  she  had  a  head 
ache.  She  next  prepared  a  glass  of  water,  dissolved 
in  it  a  large  quantity  of  cyanide  of  potassium,  and 
set  it  beside  her  bed.  When  her  husband  came  home 
he  heard  that  she  was  ill,  and  went  to  her  room.  She 
said :  l  Get  me  some  magnesia.  It  is  in  my  bath 
room.'  When  he  returned  with  it,  she  asked  him  to 
put  a  teaspoonful  of  this  medicine  in  the  glass  of 
water.  He  did  so.  She  said  to  her  maid :  '  Do  not 
go  out  yet.'  When  he  turned  to  hand  her  the  glass, 
he  said :  l  Stop  j  it  has  a  queer  smell.  Let  me  taste 
it.'  As  he  set  the  glass  to  his  lips,  she  cried  out, 
1  No,  no,'  struck  the  glass  from  his  hand,  and  fell  back 
in  hysterics.  Her  own  doctor  could  not  be  found,  and 
I  was  sent  for.  Her  husband  told  me  what  had  oc 
curred.  The  overturned  glass  smelled  strongly  of  cya 
nide.  It  has  the  familiar  odor  of  bitter  almonds  or 
peach-kernels.  I  felt  that  he  ought  to  see  her  letter 
to  me.  It  said  very  little,  except  that  she  was  un 
happy  and  was  firmly  convinced  that  some  day  her 
husband  would  poison  her.  She  added :  i  Be  sure  to 
keep  this  letter.'  She  became  maniacal  after  a  long 
illness,  and  ended  her  sad  life  in  an  asylum.  The 
dregs  of  the  fluid  were  analyzed,  and  the  result  justi- 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  405 

fied  my  belief  in  the  presence  of  an  enormous  dose  of 
one  of  the  deadliest  poisons  known  to  man." 

"  What  a  diabolical  plot !  "  said  Clayborne.  "  I  can 
not  see  how  he  could  have  escaped.  A  man  buys 
poison,  apparently  gives  it  in  the  maid's  presence, 
and  the  woman  leaves  on  record  a  statement  that  her 
husband  meant  to  poison  her.  His  infidelities,  which 
were  well  known,  complete  the  links  of  motives.  He 
would  probably  have  been  hanged." 

"  What  became  of  him  ? "  said  my  wife. 

"  He  married  again,  and  was  kept  in  rigorous 
order." 

"It  was  all  too  obvious  to  have  hanged  him,"  said 
Vincent.  "  She  made  him  buy  the  poison,  and  meant 
to  take  it  and  die,  and  leave  him  burdened  with  the 
certainty  of  having  killed  her.  She  managed  it  awk 
wardly,  but  came  near  to  success.  I  suppose  her  nerve 
failed  her  at  the  decisive  moment.  He  made  a  narrow 
escape.  I  hate  murder  cases,  but  this  one  I  should 
have  liked  to  handle." 

I  said :  "  She  was  willing  to  die  and  to  punish  him, 
but  not  willing  to  kill  him." 

"  What  a  strange  story,"  said  my  wife,  "  and  how 
cleverly  wicked  the  woman  was  !  " 

"  It  reminds  me,"  said  I,  "  of  a  famous  case  where 
a  murderer  took  cyanide  to  escape  the  gallows.  He 
killed  his  mother-in-law." 

"  Poor  maligned  mothers-in-law,"  cried  my  wife, 
"  much-abused  relation ;  and  yet,  never  before  did  I 
hear  of  one  having  been  murdered.  Wives,  hus 
bands,  even  fathers  have  been  poisoned,  or  what  not  -f 
but  no  historic  mother-in-law." 

27 


406  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

Clayborne  regarded  the  gay  speaker  as  if  he  were 
considering  a  grave  problem.  These  half -serious 
propositions  annoyed  him.  Now  he  gave  it  up  and 
said:  "English  is  weak  in  words  of  relationship. 
The  wife's  mother  and  the  husband's  mother  are, 
may  I  say,  officially  different.  We  have  for  them 
only  the  one  added  phrase  'in  law.7  What  has  law 
to  do  with  the  relation?  The  adjectives  '  maternal' 
and  '  paternal 7  we  do  not  apply  here.'7 

"  Let  us/7  said  Afton,  "  appoint  a  committee  to  in 
vent  names  for  these  unlabeled  relations.  Shall  we 
forever  abandon  the  right  to  make  new  words? 
How  free  we  are  in  science  ! 77 

"  Yes/7  said  Clayborne,  "  and  I  wish  it  would  keep 
its  own.  We  are  being  loaded  with  abominable 
terms.  English  is  rich  enough.  If  we  could  reclaim 
the  words  we  have  lost,  that  were  better.77 

"  Before  we  go  on/7  said  I,  "  let  me  say  a  word  of 

the  father-in-law.  My  friend  Captain  R ,  with 

two  squadrons  of  cavalry,  was  cut  off  and  surrounded, 
during  our  Civil  War,  by  an  overwhelming  force  of 
Confederates.  When,  in  mercy,  a  flag  of  truce  in 
vited  him  to  surrender,  he  asked  who  was  in  com 
mand.  l  General  B /  was  the  answer.  l  What ! 

My  father-in-law?  No.  I  should  hear  of  it  till  I 
die.7  He  cut  his  way  out,  losing  heavily,  and  has  a 
handsome  lot  of  scars  as  a  remembrance.77 

"Were  mothers-in-law  always  in  bad  repute?77 
asked  Sibyl.  "  Among  those  which  seem  chosen  as 
affectionate  relations  we  are  told  that  l  the  daughter- 
in-law  shall  be  set  against  the  mother-in-law/  as  if 
that  were  uncommon.77 


DR.   NORTH   AND  HIS  FRIENDS  407 

"  A  neat  defense,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  But,  meanwhile,"  said  Af ton,  "  we  are  losing  Dr. 
North's  story." 

"It  is  not,"  said  I,  " one  which  supports  the  com 
mon  belief.  He,  my  present  murderer,  killed  his 
mother-in-law,  not  for  hate  of  her,  but  to  get  money. 
It  was  greed,  not  hate,  which  supplied  the  motive. 
He  was  convicted,  and  the  day  before  his  execution 
killed  himself  with  this  same  drug,  the  cyanide.  The 
interest  of  the  story  lies  in  the  way  he  obtained  the 
poison.  He  was,  of  course,  watched  with  care,  as  it 
was  known  that  he  meant  to  take  his  own  life.  He 
complained  that  the  print  of  a  Bible  given  him  by 
the  chaplain  was  too  small,  and  asked  to  have  one 
from  his  own  home.  A  friend  was  allowed  to  bring 
it.  The  soft  blank  leaves  were  saturated  with  cya 
nide.  Who  did  this  was  never  known.  The  con 
demned  man  rolled  up  one  of  these  leaves  into  a 
pellet,  put  it  in  his  mouth,  drank  a  little  water,  and 
feU  dead." 

"  How  horrible  !  "  cried  Sibyl.  "  And  the  Bible  of 
all  books !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I. 

"  And  now,"  said  Aft  on,  "  I  must  go." 

"  But  come  again  and  tell  us  more  stories,"  said 
my  wife. 

"  You  should  leave  us  with  a  promise  like  Schehe- 
rezade,  or  with  a  half -told  tale  like  him  'who  left 
half  told  the  story  of  Cambuscan  bold.'  Alas!  too 
many  have  left  us  tales  half  told.  I  will  go  with  you 
to  the  gate,"  I  said. 

But  when  I  rose  Vincent  would  also  go  with  us, 


408  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

and  then  the  women,  because  the  moon  was  up,  a 
great,  ruddy  pearl,  over  the  mainland.  Clayborne, 
being  thus  left  alone,  tardily  followed,  and,  very 
merrily  disposed,  we  went  across  the  damp  grass 
under  the  thin-leaved  apple-trees  to  the  road.  When 
half  a  mile  away,  Mrs.  Vincent  assured  us  that  we 
would  be  unwise  to  escort  Dr.  Afton  farther,  as  it 
was  quite  too  large  an  honor.  Laughing,  he  left  us, 
and  we  sat  down  on  the  roadside,  while  my  wife  and 
Vincent  climbed  up  on  to  the  top  rail  of  a  fence. 
Presently  Sibyl  began  to  cap  verses  with  my  wife 
about  the  moon,  and  after  a  few  minutes'  chat  we 
heard  some  one  say  it  was  damp.  This  was  Afton. 

"I  concluded  that  you  would  not  go  home  at 
once,  and  as  the  dew  is  falling,  that  it  would  be  cow 
ardly  not  to  share  the  imprudence  of  agreeable  people." 

Af  ton's  return  was  hailed  with  pleasure.  He  was  re 
minded  by  Mrs.  Vincent  of  the  peril  of  such  returns, 

and  of  what  happened  to  our  friend  C 5  but  she 

declined  to  explain.  It  was  worth  telling,  I  said,  but 
that  I,  at  least,  never  would  tell  it.  Afton  said  that 
was  personal  cruelty. 

Clayborne  had  rather  reluctantly  gone  with  us,  and 
was  seated  silent  by  the  roadside  on  a  rock.  Now 
he  rose.  "  I  am  going  home,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Vincent  broke  out  into  song,  which,  as  Alice 
used  to  say,  always  tamed  him.  He  sat  down  again. 
Then  from  the  top  of  the  fence  Alice  said:  "Now, 
some  one  tell  us  a  story." 

"  I  know  one,  such  a  nice  one,"  said  Afton,  "  about 
a  man  who  was  married  at  one  time  to  two  wives, 
but  was  innocent  of  bigamy." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  409 

"  Delightful !  "  cried  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  But  I  wiU  never  tell  it,"  he  added.  "  That  is  my 
revenge.  Good  night." 

"  Sometimes  you  people  are  quite  unbearable,"  said 
the  scholar,  "  and  I  am  very  damp." 

We  went  home,  Anne  Vincent  singing  as  we  went, 
and  we  in  the  intervals  guessing  as  to  how,  innocently, 
a  man  could  be  the  husband  of  two  wives— for,  as 
Afton  assured  us,  it  did  happen. 


XXIII 

I  WO  days  later  we  sailed  in  Vincent's 
yacht  around  the  entire  coast  of  Mount 
Desert  Island.  Mrs.  Vincent,  who  hated 
the  sea,  preferred  a  buckboard  drive  to 
Somesville  with  Sibyl.  We  started  very 
early,  but  were  delayed  on  our  way  because  Clayborne 
desired  to  go  up  Somes  Sound  that  he  might  see 
the  Jesuits7  well  and  the  meadow  where  the  earliest 
French  settlement  was  made.  Thus,  despite  favoring 
winds,  it  was  near  to  dusk  when,  on  our  return,  we 
walked  up  the  grass  slope  to  Vincent's  house. 
"  By  Jove !  Vincent,"  said  I,  "  there  is  Xerxes." 
It  was  true.  Large,  in  spotless  white  flannel,  the  big 
man  was  comfortably  seated  on  Vincent's  back  porch, 
smoking  a  huge  Cabana  breva.  What  Vincent  said 
is  not  to  be  repeated. 

My  wife,  enjoying  the  situation,  murmured :  "  What 
can  Mr.  Vincent  do  now  ? " 
"Hush!"  said  I. 

Mr.  Crofter  came  down  the  steps  in  a  leisurely  way. 
"  A  young  woman  said  you  would  be  late,  so  I  guessed 
I  would  wait.  I  'm  right  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Vin 
cent,  and  Mrs.  Vincent,  I  suppose." 

I  corrected  him.  "  Let  me  present  you  to  Mrs. 
North.  Mrs.  Vincent  is  not  in." 

410 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  411 

"  Pleased  to  see  you/'  said  Xerxes.  "  It  is  rather 
curious  we  should  never  have  met." 

Vincent  was  coldly  polite.  The  others  spoke  to 
him  in  turn. 

Said  Xerxes,  as  we  went  up  the  steps  to  the  porch : 
"  Thought  I  would  wait  for  you  outside.  Don't  you 
find  it  rather  cool  here  toward  evening  ? "  He  spoke 
as  if  he  were  receiving  us  as  guests. 

To  this  Vincent  made  no  reply,  except  to  say,  "Mrs. 
Vincent  is  away."  He  was  in  the  temperate  zone  of 
mere  civility. 

I  passed  on  into  the  house  with  my  wife,  leaving 
the  others  on  the  porch.  "Oh,  if  only  Anne  Vin 
cent  were  here  !  "  she  said,  quivering  with  suppressed 
laughter. 

"  The  man  has  a  talent,  Alice.  He  can  forget. 
Can  a  man  forget  and  not  forgive  ?  "  For  I  recalled 
what  Vincent  had  said  to  him  on  a  former  occasion. 

"  No.  But  I  wish  Mr.  Clayborne  had  heard  your 
remark.  He  would  say  entire  f  orgetf  ulness  eliminates 
the  need  to  forgive,  and  that  you  were  very  near  to  a 
bull.  Do  not  leave  poor  Mr.  Vincent  alone." 

"  He  has  Clayborne,"  I  said. 

"Who  will  be  silent— dumb.     You  know  that." 

"Very  well,  dear.     Where  are  you  going?" 

"  I  must  look  after  the  child,  Owen.  I  will  return 
at  once." 

She  went  away  by  a  side  door  to  our  own  house, 
which  was  near  by. 

I  went  out  again  on  to  the  porch,  where  I  found  all 
three  men  smoking,  while  Xerxes,  quite  at  ease,  was 
joyfully  sustaining  the  weight  of  the  talk.  To  my 


412  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS   FRIENDS 

disgust,  he  was  relating  at  length  the  story  of  our  first 
meeting  and  that  famous  game  of  chess.  He  told  it 
well,  and  not  to  be  amused  was  impossible.  Clay- 
borne  was  shaking  with  laughter,  and  Vincent,  after 
a  sorry  effort  to  listen  calmly,  had  also  broken  down. 

"  And  he  never  told  you  ? n  said  Xerxes.  "  Why,  I 
spread  it  all  over  the  country.  It  was  well  worth  the 
price  of  admission.  A  right  good  circus  j  and  you 
never  told  it,  doc— Dr.  North  1 " 

"  Never." 

"And  why  not?" 

"  Because,"  said  I,  "  I  was  ashamed ;  because  I  beat 
you  with  weapons  I  do  not  like  to  use,  and  because  I 
was  not  pleased  with  myself  for  using  them." 

In  the  red  glow  of  his  cigar  I  saw  my  friend  Vin 
cent's  face  light  up  pleasantly. 

"Well,  that  is  curious,"  returned  Crofter,  reflec 
tively.  "  Can't  understand  it.  I  Ve  done  a  heap  of 
things  in  my  time,  but,  Lord !  they  're  done." 

"And  so,"  thought  I,  "is  murder,  theft." 

Presently  we  heard  the  sound  of  wheels,  and  a 
minute  later  Mrs.  Vincent  sailed  out.  There  was,  in 
fact,  something  stately  and  like  a  noble  ship  in  her 
way  of  moving. 

She  said  graciously :  "  Mr.  Crofter,  I  believe.  I 
am  glad  to  see  you." 

She  was  well  pleased.  She  had  been  very  curious 
about  Xerxes,  and  fate  had  favored  her.  My  wife 
soon  returned,  and  both  sat  down,  while  Sibyl  dropped 
into  her  hammock.  Vincent  shamelessly  abandoned 
the  conversation  to  the  newcomers,  and  Clayborne 
said  as  little  as  possible. 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  413 

"  You  came  up  in  your  yacht,  I  think,"  said  Mrs. 
Vincent. 

"  Yes.  I  am  a  bit  hard  up  for  amusement  in  the 
summer-time,  since  I  came  East.  As  long  as  I  had  to 
fight  for  a  living  I  enjoyed  life.  Then  I  took  to  rail 
roading,  and  while  that  was  a  scrimmage  I  had  a  good 
time.  Now  I  have  married  and  settled  down  in  New 
York,  I  sometimes  find  it  dull." 

"  I  should  think  so,"  said  my  wife,  sympathetically. 
"  And  does  yachting  amuse  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  as  long  as  there  is  risk  in  it.  Between  times 
it  is  poor  fun.  Now  and  then  I  make  'em  carry  a  lot 
of  sail  in  a  big  blow.  My  captain  don't  like  it.  I  do. 
You  must  risk  money  or  life  if  you  want  to  be  happy." 

"I  hope,  Fred,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "that  you  will 
not  take  to  either  of  these  forms  of  happiness."  She 
was  merrily  bent  upon  getting  her  husband  into  the 
talk. 

Vincent  said  :  "  You  may  rest  at  ease." 

Sibyl,  to  my  surprise,  replied:  "I  can  understand 
Mr.  Crofter's  feeling." 

"  Let  me  take  you  all  out,"  said  Xerxes.  "  We  will 
wait  for  a  brisk  sou'wester.  We  will  run  up  to  the 
Grand  Manan.  I  can  take  you  all  and  make  you 
right  comfortable,  too." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Vincent.  "  My  wife  never  sails, 
and  I  have  my  own  yacht." 

"  Well,  it 's  an  open  offer.  And  talking  of  risks, 
off  Cape  Cod  we  were  running  in  a  gale,  when  I  saw 
a  canoe.  We  came  within  a  few  yards  of  her.  I  sung 
out,  and  the  man  in  her  looked  up.  It  was  that  free- 
spoken  young  man,  Saint  Clair.  I  offered  to  take  him 


414  DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

in.  I  won't  relate  what  he  said.  It  was  concise.  You 
know  we  had  a  row,  Mr.  Vincent,  and  I  guess  he  don't 
feel  we  got  even.  I  can't  see  what  vexed  the  man." 

"  Perhaps  he  can,"  said  Vincent.  "  The  point  of 
view  is  important." 

"  Well,  really.  What  was  it  ?  I  like  that  man,  and 
there  was  n't  a  dollar  of  difference  between  us." 

Meanwhile  I  saw  in  Clayborne  the  usual  storm- 
signals.  He  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair,  laid  down 
his  cigar  and  took  it  up  again,  and  at  last  said  quietly : 
"It  is  not  easy,  Mr.  Crofter,  to  discuss  a  friend's 
quarrels,  but  I  believe  that,  as  St.  Clair  said,  you 
ruined  two  of  his  friends.  I  beg  leave  to  say  that, 
while  I  thought  he  should  have  held  his  tongue  in  my 
house,  I  did  think  he  had  some  reason  to  speak  as  he 
did." 

I  saw  Vincent  look  up  at  Clayborne.  He  clearly 
disapproved  of  the  overfrank  turn  the  talk  had  taken. 
In  fact,  Clayborne  was  guilty  of  the  very  offense  for 
which  he  censured  St.  Clair. 

"  I  think,"  said  Vincent,  "  we  had  better  leave  St. 
Clair  to  fight  his  own  battles.  I  should  remind  you, 
Clayborne,  that  it  was  not  Mr.  Crofter,  but  his  former 
partner,  who  had  been  in  fault." 

There  was  a  scarce  perceptible  pause,  and  then 
Xerxes  spoke  with  entire  good  humor. 

"  Now,  I  'm  obliged  to  you.  I  was  n't  in  it,  but  I 
did  n't  care  to  explain.  What 's  the  good  ?  As  to  Mr. 
Saint  Clair,  he  is  n't  altogether  incapable  of  taking 
care  of  himself ;  and,  after  all,  it  was  more  a  glove- 
fight  than  a  blood-quarrel.  I  suppose,  too"— and  he 
spoke  with  deliberate  care— "I  suppose,  Mr.  Vincent, 


DR.   NORTH  AND   HIS  FRIENDS  415 

my  point  of  view  and  yours  may  be  different.  My 
wife  sees  that.  I  do  suppose  I  ask  too  many  ques 
tions."  As  he  spoke  he  looked  from  us  to  the  women. 

"  Oh,  no/'  said  my  wife.     "  Pray  go  on." 

"Well,  Mrs.  Crofter  says  everything  is  to  be  had 
by  patient  observation.  I  'm  observing,  I  've  been 
observing,  but  I  am  not  patient." 

Vincent  began  to  be  interested  despite  his  dislike 
of  the  man,  a  dislike  born  generations  back.  He  felt, 
too,  that,  whether  a  willing  host  or  not,  he  could  not 
remain  permanently  outside  of  the  talk.  He  said : 
"  Pardon  me,  but  I  do  not  quite  understand." 

Xerxes,  evidently  more  at  ease,  returned : 

"  Well,  I  was  born  and  raised  and  fought  my  way 
among  people,  Mr.  Vincent,  so  different  from  you  peo 
ple  that  it 's  like  being  in  China.  I  don't  mean  the 
heavy  railroad  men  and  bankers.  I  mean  people  like 
you  and  my  wife.  I  like  them.  I  did  n't  at  first.  But 
once  I  did  n't  know  a  chromo  from  a  Constable.  I 
do  now.  To  be  plain,  I  came  East,  and  I  wanted 
human  fine  arts." 

"  Human  fine  arts,"  murmured  my  wife,  delighted. 

"  What  a  charming  phrase  !  "  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  continued  Xerxes,  now  under  way, 
and  habitually  accustomed  to  be  heard  with  re 
spect  even  where  hostility  was  imminent.  "I  find 
difficulties.  My  wife  says,  'Time  and  patience.'  I 
hate  waiting,  and  I  never  was  patient.  A  man  tells 
me  I  had  better  not  just  yet  be  put  up  at  the  Hudson 
Club.  Well,  that  is  pretty  plain.  If  I  ask  men  like 
you,  Mr.  Vincent,  to  dine  with  me,  they  won't.  They 
won't  yet.  Of  course  I  shall  get  on  top  of  it  all  some 


416  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

day  j  but  I  hate  to  wait  and—  Well,  things  in  a  way 
led  up  to  it  to-night,  and  so  I  just  thought  I  would 
have  it  out.  Fact  is,  I  don't  understand  you  Eastern 
people." 

It  was,  socially  speaking,  appalling.  This  fearless, 
rude  baron  of  dubious  finance  and  elaborate  railway 
theft  had  cast  down  his  glove  of  challenge  before  a 
gentler  people  than  those  among  whom  he  had  been 
born.  The  courage  of  the  man  was  interesting.  His 
belief  that  he  would  be  considered  was  no  doubt  the  re 
sult  of  habit.  His  feeling  that  he  would  be  counseled 
wisely  was  almost  childlike.  For  a  moment  no  one  re 
plied.  Clayborne  would  not  answer.  I  did  not  want  to. 
Vincent  said  later,  "  In  my  own  house,  how  could  I?" 
Xerxes  was  quick  to  note  this  hesitation.  He  added, 
"  Perhaps  I  'm  making  myself  unpleasant.  I  don't  want 
to,  but  I  do  want  to  know."  The  simplicity  of  his 
obstinacy  was  embarrassing.  I  looked  at  Vincent. 
The  appeal  was  honest  and  of  the  utmost  sincerity.  I 
knew  that  Vincent  must  in  some  way  accept  its 
challenge. 

He  said  at  last :  "  Mr.  Crofter,  I  fear  that  we  are 
thinking  more  of  our  own  difficulty  than  of  your  very 
natural  desire ;  but— and  you  will  pardon  me— I  do  not 
want  to  reply  at  all ;  and  if  I  wished  to  do  so,  I  could 
not  in  my  own  house.  I  should  want  a  larger  free 
dom." 

"  Oh,  but  I  don't  mind,  and,  anyway,  we  are  half 
out  of  doors." 

"  You  must  let  us  off  this  time,"  said  Vincent,  laugh 
ing.  "  Could  we  have  tea,  Anne  ? " 

"  Certainly." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  417 

She  rose  and  went  into  the  house,  while  Clayborne 
said :  "  We  are  going  to  have  a  change  of  weather." 

I  said,  "  Yes ;  there  is  a  fog  on  Green  Mountain," 
and  considered  an  awkward  business  disposed  of.  Not 
so  Xerxes. 

"  I  have  half  a  mind  to  ask  the  ladies,"  he  said. 

What  could  one  do  with  a  man  like  this ?  "I  fear 
that  we  should  follow  suit,"  said  my  wife. 

Sibyl  had  listened  to  this  remarkable  talk  with 
silent  intensity  of  interest.  She  was  lying  in  a  ham 
mock  under  the  porch  where  we  sat.  Now  she  rose 
on  her  elbow,  and,  to  Vincent's  dismay,  said :  "  I  will 
tell  you,  Mr.  Crofter.  We  think  of  you  as  a  man  who 
has  made  an  extravagant  fortune  by  means  which 
seem  to  us  wicked.  We  do  not  like  it.  We  say,  t  Why 
should  such  a  man  think  mere  wealth  gives  him  a 
right  to  take  at  will  an  equal  place  among  people  of 
stainless  lives,  men  of  honor  ? '  That  is  the  truth,  all 
of  it.  I  do  not  see  why  some  one  should  not  speak 
out." 

During  this  bewildering  revelation  of  opinion,  Vin 
cent  sat  smoking  furiously,  Clayborne  smiled  grimly, 
my  wife  pursued  a  ball  of  worsted  down  the  steps, 
and  I  sat  still. 

Xerxes  said  at  once  :  "  You  are  a  brave  little  woman, 
and  I  am  much  obliged  to  you.  I  could  argue  that 
question  of  my  wickedness.  I  don't  see  it.  Suppose 
we  admit  it  or  set  it  aside.  Here  I  am.  I  shall  get 
where  I  want  to  soon  or  late." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Clayborne,  "  you  will." 

"  More  's  the  pity,  you  will  say." 

"  I  did  not." 


418  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"No.  Well,  Mr.  Clayborne,  here  I  am,  me  and 
my  money.  I  can't  give  it  away.  I  don't  mean  to. 
You  Ve  got  me  here." 

This  powerful  human  machine  seemed  to  think  we 
were  responsible  for  his  future. 

"  Do  you  really  mean,"  said  Sibyl,  "  do  you  honestly 
mean  to  ask—" 

Here  Vincent  interposed.  "  Pardon  me,  Miss  May- 
wood,  if  I  say  that  all  this  is  to  me  most  unpleasing. 
What  Mr.  Crofter  does  with  himself  and  his  property 
should  in  no  way  concern  us.  I  trust  he  will  excuse 
your  freedom  and  mine." 

"  But  I  like  it,"  said  the  machine. 

"I  think,"  said  Clayborne,  with  grim  indifference 
to  the  amenities  of  life—"  I  think  that  Mr.  Crofter  has 
struck  upon  the  opportunity  of  a  lifetime.  Let  Sibyl 
answer,  even  if  you  and  I  will  not,  cannot." 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  very  interesting,"  said  my  wife, 
with  appearance  of  ingenuous  simplicity. 

Vincent  was  furious.  He  lit  a  cigar  and  remained 
silent. 

Sibyl  said  quietly :  "  May  I,  Mr.  Clayborne  ?  Oh,  I 
do  want  to  speak." 

"Yes.  Go  on,  if  Mr.  Crofter  wishes  it.  I  see  no 
objection." 

"  Now,  that  's  all  right,"  said  the  machine,  cheer 
fully.  "You  go  ahead,  little  woman.  You  have  a 
clear  track." 

"I  wanted  to  ask  you  if  you  did  really  desire  a 
foolish  little  maid  like  me  to  tell  you,  a  strong,  suc 
cessful  man,  what  to  do  with  your  life  and  your 
gains." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  419 

"  That  's  it.  If  you  say,  '  Give  away  money,  help 
this  or  that/  I  do  it— oh,  pretty  much  as  my  wife 
says." 

"And  why?7' 

"  Because  she  tells  me." 

"  In  order  to  get  certain  things,  to  please  certain 
people  ? " 

"  It 's  about  that.     What  would  you  do  ? " 

Sibyl  laughed.  "  I  never  had  enough  to  be  troubled 
as  to  what  to  do  with  it.  If  I  had  your  income  I 
should  give  it  away,  every  year,  all  of  it,  every  cent." 

"  Would  you  ?  Got  to  protect  property  with  money. 
Does  any  one  do  that  ? " 

"  Ask  Mr.  Clay  borne,"  said  Sibyl,  audaciously. 

"  I  ask  him,"  he  said,  turning  in  his  seat. 

Clayborne  said :  "  This  is  an  unusual  talk.  The 
palace  of  truth  was  a  trifle  to  it.  Yes  j  to  be  plain, 
I  save  no  income.  I  used  to  j  now  I  do  not." 

"And  how  about  you,  Mr.  Vincent?"  said  Xerxes. 

"  I  prefer  not  to  discuss  my  private  affairs.  You 
must  pardon  my  reticence.  Miss  Maywood's  frank 
ness  is  not  to  my  taste.  Let  it  suffice." 

"  Oh,  that  's  all  right,"  said  Crofter.  "  Guess  I  Ve 
been  to  Sunday-school  to-day.  Perhaps  I  shall  re 
pent.  But  whether  or  not,  I  shall  get  at  last  what  I 
want.  I  always  do." 

"  You  will,"  said  Clayborne.  "  I  have  not  the  least 
doubt  you  will." 

Crofter  hesitated.  Then  he  swung  himself  around 
and  put  the  confiding  hand  of  familiarity  on  Vincent's 
knee.  My  friend  stood  it  bravely. 

"  Mr.  Vincent,  you  people  are  not  used  to  men  like 


420  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS   FRIENDS 

me.  I  am  feeling  that.  I  've  made  myself  disagree 
able.  I  want  to  say  I  did  n't  think  any  one  but  me 
could  be  hurt  by  it.77 

"  There  has  been  no  harm  done/'  said  Vincent, 
coldly. 

"  Well,  we  '11  drop  it.  Only  there  's  one  thing  I 
don't  get  clear  about.  We  had  it  up  before  at  your 
house,  Mr.  Clayborne.  Miss  Maywood  talked  about 
men  of  honor.  A  man  keeps  his  word,  he  meets  his 
pecuniary  obligations,  and  then  some  one  says,  'Oh, 
he  's  straight  enough,  but  he  is  n't  a  man  of  honor.' 
I  sha'n't  bother  you  about  X.  C.  any  more,  but  I  want 
to  ask  my  young  friend  here,  what  is  honor  ?  " 

I  thought  of  Pilate's  historic  question. 

"  The  honesty  of  a  gentleman,"  said  Sibyl,  promptly. 

Crofter  laughed  in  hearty  animal  enjoyment  of 
what  to  us  was  an  awkward  situation. 

"  Miss  Maywood,  you  are  as  hard  to  understand  as 
another  woman  I  ask  questions  of.  This  beats  chess 
problems,  doctor." 

"  And  is  not  an  answer,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  Will  you  smoke  again  ?  "  said  Vincent. 

"With  pleasure.  I  went  by  here  to-day  on  the 
shore.  There  I  made  acquaintance  with  Miss  Mary. 
After  she  heard  my  name,  she  said, '  Why  did  papa  say 
you  was  a  plantigwade,  and  what  is  a  plantigwade?' 
I  had  to  own  up  I  did  n't  know.  Then  the  young 
lady  guessed  it  was  a  kind  of  bear,  and  informed  me 
I  had  hairy  hands  just  like  a  bear.  I  laughed  and  said 
people  out  West  used  to  call  me  Old  Grizzly.  Then 
she  said  I  was  a  real  nice  bear,  and  would  I  play 
being  bear  on  the  beach." 


DR.   NORTH   AND   HIS  FRIENDS  421 

At  this  we  laughed,  relieved  by  our  escape  from  the 
dilemma  of  silence  or  reproach. 

My  wife  said,  "  The  child  was  impertinent." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Xerxes.  "  I  played  bear,  I  did.  I 
walked  on  all  fours,  and  I  learned  that  Mr.  Clayborne 
was  n't  half  as  nice  a  bear.  I  should  like  to  buy  that 
young  lady." 

"  Not  for  millions,"  said  my  wife,  gaily.  "  Oh,  here 
is  tea.  One  lump  or  two,  Mr.  Crofter?"  And  so, 
after  a  little  more  of  less  perilous  chat,  Xerxes  de 
parted. 

"  The  dinner  must  be  ruined,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent, 
rising.  "  You  men  shall  not  dress." 

"Come  in,  Owen,"  said  Vincent.  "If  ever  you 
bring  that  fellow  here  again,  I  will— 

"  I  did  not  bring  him.  He  came  to  see  you.  He 
will  come  again.  And  now" — viciously — "you  will 
have  to  go  out  to  his  yacht  and  call." 

"  I  11  be  blanked  if  I  do." 

"  I  like  him,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  No  doubt  we 
seem  as  strange  to  him  as  he  to  us.  Sibyl,  you  cov 
ered  yourself  with  glory." 

"  Did  I  ?  Oh,  dear  Mrs.  Vincent,  I  wish  I  had  held 
my  tongue." 

"  It  had  been  wiser,"  said  Vincent. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Clayborne.  "'Out  of  the 
mouths  of,'  etc." 

"  So,"  said  Vincent,  "  St.  Clair  is  on  his  way  north. 
What  an  astonishing  talk  !  " 

The  conversation  which  Vincent  had  not  without 
reason  called  astonishing  was  more  than  this,  and  so 
said  my  wife  to  me  that  evening.  Here  was  a  man 

28 


422  DR.   NOKTH  AND   HIS   FRIENDS 

with  a  large  supply  of  good  and  bad  qualities.  Life, 
as  lie  had  used  it,  had  educated  and  invigorated  what 
was  not  of  the  best.  It  was  strange  that  so  much  of 
available  good  remained.  I  was  inclined  to  believe 
that  his  questions,  his  new  tastes,  his  wish  for  some 
touch  of  other  modes  of  life,  were  merely  forms  of 
ambition  and  had  behind  them  no  very  worthy  motive. 
Alice  said  it  was  a  wholly  uncharitable  view,  and 
time  would  show,  because  time  is  a  fine  diagnostician. 


XXIV 

|HE  days  went  by  most  happily.  In  the 
mornings  my  book  grew  under  my 
hands  j  in  the  afternoons  I  went  into  the 
woods,  or  of  quiet  days  took  Sibyl  and 
Mary  in  a  canoe  and  paddled  down  to 
Bar  Island  or  farther,  returning  to  meet  the  sunsets 
as  one  sees  them  nowhere  else.  After  three  days 
the  tall  masts  of  Xerxes's  yacht  were  no  longer  seen 
above  the  morning  fog.  He  had  gone.  Vincent 
put  his  head  into  my  little  study  to  announce  this 
fact. 

"  Oh,  I  see  you  are  at  work.  Excuse  me,  Owen? 
but  I  had  to  tell  you.  It  is  a  load  off  my  mind.  At 
any  hour  that  man  might  have  returned.  He  is  the 
most  innocently  disagreeable  rascal  I  ever  saw.  He 
made  himself  as  free  of  my  house  as  an  Irishman's 
pig  does  of  his  hovel.  He  is  an  intelligent  fool.  A 
fool  is  always  a  riddle.  I  confess  that  I  do  not  com 
prehend  the  man.  Sibyl  was  outrageous,  but  I  was 
honestly  obliged  to  her.  How  cool  he  was !  No,  I 
do  not  think  I  understand  that  man.  He  seems  to 
me  so  improbable." 

"  Don't  stand  there,"  I  said.  "  Come  in  and  talk. 
I  .am  unable  to  settle  a  question.  I  shall  leave  it  for 
to-day.  It  will  simmer  in  my  head,  and  to-morrow  I 

423 


424  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

shall  write  it,  as  a  once  famous  lawyer  said,  curente 
calamito.  Now  I  am  glad  of  interruption.77 

Vincent  entered  and  took  a  seat  at  the  open  win 
dow.  "  How  beautiful  it  is,  Owen !  Why  does  a 
fellow  like  that  Xerxes  poison  it  for  me  ?  It  is  like 
the  remembrance  of  a  decayed  olive  or  a  too  ancient 
egg.  It  lingers." 

That  was  like  my  friend.  Some  human  beings  had 
power  to  make  him  feel  uncomfortable,  to  fill  him 
for  a  day  or  two  with  smoldering  fires  of  dull  anger. 
But,  as  he  said,  it  was  only  the  incomprehensibly  dis 
agreeable  who  annoyed  him ;  the  merely  unpleasant 
or  simply  base  who  seemed  obvious  troubled  him 
less,  or  not  at  all. 

He  went  on  talking.  "When  a  fellow  like  that 
man  discusses  with  a  sneer  what  we  call  honor,  good 
heavens !  Owen,  it  is  like  a  sensual  rake  discussing 
some  pure-minded  maid." 

"  Is  n't  that  rather  excessive,  Fred  ?  He  was  merely 
curious,  ripely  puzzled.  He  did  not  sneer.  How  de 
fend  honor  to  a  man  like  Xerxes  ?  How  could  he  com 
prehend?  And,  after  all,  who  can  define  it?  Sibyl 
made  a  vain  attempt.  No  dictionary  could  help  him, 
or  us  for  that  matter.  The  fact  is,  certain  words  ac 
quire  histories,  manners,  traditions,  memories.  There 
comes  to  be  a  kind  of  misty  halo  about  them  which 
defies  definition  or  forces  a  man  to  lengthen  his 
definition  into  an  essay.  Let  us  look  at  the  dic 
tionary." 

"  Or  ask  Clayborne,  which  is  much  the  same 
thing." 

When  we  brought  it  up  that  evening,  as  we  sat 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  425 

under  the  trees,  Clayborne  said:  "You  are  right, 
Vincent.  Symonds  says— you  may  recall  his  dis 
cussion  of  the  Italian  word  onore,  used  in  contra 
distinction  to  our  word— 'Honor  is  that  mixture  of 
conscience,  pride,  and  self-respect  which  makes  a 
man  true  to  a  high  ideal  in  all  the  possible  circum 
stances  of  life.' " 

"  Even  that  is  rather  vague,"  said  Vincent.  "  As 
to  dictionaries,  there  are  no  perfect  dictionaries. 
There  can  be  none.  Words  are  at  the  mercy  of  their 
verbal  environment.  A  woman's  honor;  the  honor 
of  a  gentleman ;  a  debt  of  honor.  Words  are  like 
colors :  the  tints  which  surround  them  make  or  alter 
their  values." 

"  Yes,"  said  I;  "we  looked  up  the  noun  'virgin' 
yesterday.  There  is  no  substantive  word  for  a 
virgin  man." 

"That  is  sadly  significant,"  said  Vincent.  "Ah, 
here  come  the  ladies  !  " 

We  were  at  this  time  on  the  lawn  after  dinner. 
As  they  approached,  Mrs.  Vincent  said :  "  We  have 
been  talking  trivialities,  and  guessing  at  what  you 
were  discussing.  We  heard  no  laughter.  We  con 
cluded  that  it  was— '' 

"  What  ?  "  said  Clayborne. 

"  We  decline  to  say,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  What 
was  it  ? " 

"  Words,"  I  replied.  "  We  have  been  listening  to 
Clayborne.  I  asked  him  when  English  writers  began 
to  talk  of  style,  when  the  critic  came.  I  forget  all  he 
said,  but  he  recalled  a  pretty  couplet  of  Chaucer. 
What  was  it,  Clayborne? " 


426  DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Merely  this,  and  I   am  in  doubt  just  what  it 

means : 

Eke  Plato  sayeth,  whoso  him  may  rede, 
The  wordes  mot  be  cosyn  to  the  dede. 

But  I  cannot  find  it  in  Plato." 

"  It  admits  of  more  meanings  than  one/'  said  Vin 
cent.  "  But  before  you  lecture  on  it,  as  you  will,  let 
me  ask  you  to  repeat  your  quotation  from  Temple. 
We  were  talking  chiefly  of  definitions  of  honor,  and 
Clayborne  gave  us  one  of  honesty  as  a  help.  Repeat 
it,  please." 

"Certainly.  It  is  finely  simple.  'That  which 
makes  men  prefer  their  duty  and  their  promise  be 
fore  their  passions  or  their  interests.'  But  as  to 
honor  all  definitions  fail." 

Said  Vincent :  "  Does  it  not  come  to  this  ?  Honesty 
is  an  externally  available  virtue,  honor  a  far  more 
personal  and  interior  thing." 

"  All  our  talk  of  words,"  said  my  wife,  "  ends  in  a 
belief  that  the  dictionaries  have  never  yet»done  jus 
tice  to  the  English  tongue.  I  want  a  dictionary  of 
my  own." 

"Neither  words  nor  men  get  justice,"  said  Mrs. 
Vincent.  "Sibyl  and  I  agreed  just  now  that  you 
men  are  very  hard  on  Mr.  Crofter." 

"As  how?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  you  fully  realize  his  bad  qualities,  and  do  not 
consider  the  life  and  inheritances  which  nourished 
them." 

"  And,"  cried  Sibyl,  "  you  do  not  see  how  much 
there  is  of  good  in  the  man,  nor,  perhaps,  how  in 
evitable  was  his  career." 


DE.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS  427 

"  He  has  good  qualities,"  I  said. 

"And  that/'  said  Vincent,  "  is  cause  for  regret." 

"  Regret,  Fred  ?  "  asked  his  wife.     "  Why  ?  " 

"  Because  his  good  qualities  serve  to  give  efficiency 
to  his  bad  ones." 

"  I  like  that,"  said  Clayborne.  "  But  now  I  am  off 
to  bed.  I  get  sleepy  here."  It  was  hardly  ten,  and 
we  were  all  of  us  people  who  were  apt  to  talk  at 
times  far  into  the  small  hours. 

"  It  is  very  good  for  you,"  said  my  wife.  "  Good 
night."  And  he  left  us. 

"  Thank  Heaven,  we  are  rid  of  Xerxes,"  said  Vin 
cent.  "I  have  been  up  the  road  with  Clayborne  to 
day.  He  begins  to  talk  about  a  cottage  near  us." 

"  Indeed !  "  said  I.  "  I  thought  him  uneasy  here, 
not  quite  happy.  We  had  good  luck  with  him  yes 
terday.  We  rowed  down  Eagle  Lake,  walked  along 
Bubble  Pond,  and  climbed  the  farther  spur  of  Green 
Mountain.  I  doubt  if  ever  before  he  walked  as  far, 
or  climbed  anything  except  a  staircase.  He  is  amus 
ingly  proud  of  his  exploit  j  when  I  declared  myself 
stiff,  he  was  vastly  pleased.  The  glacier-planed  slabs 
on  Green  Mountain  were  really  interesting,  and  when 
we  found  a  number  of  deep  glacier  pot-holes,  what 
the  Swiss  call  '  giant  kettles/  he  was  delighted." 

"  Like  those  in  the  garden  at  Lucerne  ? "  asked  my 
wife. 

"Yes.  You  should  have  seen  the  old  fellow's 
pleasure.  There  seem  to  be  none  elsewhere  on  the 
island  except  on  Mount  Pemetic,  or  at  least  I  have 
found  none.  Did  you  notice  how  greatly  he  was 
impressed  last  night  by  that  fine  aurora?  When  it 


428  DR.   NORTH   AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

grew  so  brilliant  and  we  heard  it,  that  faint,  rustling 
noise,  like  the  movement  of  a  silk  gown,  he  stood 
still,  more  awed  than  I  have  ever  seen  him." 

"  It  is  a  strange  thing  to  hear,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  The  faint,  quick,  silken  murmurings, 

A  noise  as  of  an  angel's  flight, 
Heard  like  the  whispers  of  a  dream 
Across  the  cool,  clear  Northern  night." 

Seeing  that  Sibyl  had  strayed  away  to  the  shore, 
my  wife  said :  "  Did  you  observe  Sibyl  last  night, 
Owen?" 

"  I  did.  She  walked  to  the  shore,  and  stood  a  long 
while  watching  the  great  lances  of  changing  light. 
At  last  I  joined  her.  She  said  it  was  terribly  beau 
tiful." 

"  All  great  natural  phenomena  disturb  her,  Owen, 
but  worst  of  all  a  thunder-storm." 

"  That  is  not  rare.  Like  some  hysterical  people, 
she  can  predict  an  electric  storm  hours  before  it 
comes.  I  have  seen  persons — no — one  person  only, 
who  declared  she  could  foretell  a  thunder-storm  by 
the  odor." 

"  By  the  odor—  how  absurd !  " 

"No.  I  have  nryself  several  times  been  conscious 
of  the  peculiar  smell  which  is  noticeable  after  vivid 
lightning  5  but  this  was  always  on  the  water  of  a 
river." 

"  I  never  had  that  experience,"  said  Vincent. 
"  If  Sibyl  has  this  power  I  hope  she  will  predict  the 
return  of  Xerxes  in  time  for  me  to  escape.  There  is 
something  elemental,  cyclonic,  in  that  fellow." 


DR.   NORTH   AND   HIS  FRIENDS  429 

"  He  will  be  here  again/'  I  said.  "  I  met  him  in 
the  village  the  day  before  he  sailed.  He  said  he  had 
some  idea  of  building  here." 

"  Has  he  ? "  groaned  Vincent. 

"  He  told  me  that  he  had  had  an  agreeable  visit  to 
your  house/7  said  I. 

"  By  George  !  he  is  easily  pleased." 

"  He  said  he  could  comprehend  Clayborne  and  the 
ladies  and  me,  but  that  you  were  a  bit  outside,  and 
therefore,  as  he  declared,  '  mighty  interesting.7 " 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  him.  I  shall  continue  a 
riddle." 

"  No,  you  will  not.  That  man  has  curiosity  ex 
cited  by  novel  human  surroundings.  He  has  energy, 
force,  and  brute  determination  to  have  his  way.  He 
has  taken  a  fancy  to  you,  and  he  will  apply  the  same 
vigor  and  ingenuity  to  your  capture  which  he  used  to 
employ  to  ruin  a  road." 

Vincent  smiled.  "He  will  find  me  hard.  As 
Queen  Elizabeth  wrote  to  James  of  Scotland,  '  I  have 
had  of  the  world  much  hammering.'  Come  out  for  a 
pull  on  the  bay." 

"  Very  good,"  I  said.  "  Did  I  tell  you  that  Afton 
is  coming  after  dinner  to-morrow  ? " 

"  No,     He  is  always  welcome," 


XXV 

HE  next  evening  we  were  again  sitting  in 
the  long,  friendly  twilight  on  the  porch, 
talking  little  and  watching  the  light  of 
day  fade  on  the  hills  of  the  distant  coast 
of  Maine.  I  heard  voices,  and  Vincent 
rose.  The  next  minute  Afton  entered  with  St.  Clair, 
who  had  met  him  on  the  road.  While  he  was  joyously 
shaking  hands  with  us,  our  little  maid  Mary  suddenly 
appeared  at  the  door  barefooted  and  in  her  night 
gown. 

"I  did  hear  Cousin  Wictor"— so  she  always  called 
him  ;  "  I  must  kiss  him  good  night." 
He  caught  her  up  and  kissed  her. 
"  You  must  see  my  new  gown,"  she  said.     "  It  is 
pink."     My  lady  was  strong  on  the  matter  of  dress, 
and  was  given  to  decorating  herself  and  personating 
older  people  whom  she  chanced  to  admire. 

"  I  have  two  bears  now.  One  is  Mr.  Cwofter.  He 
is  a  real  bear.  Mr.  Clayborne  he  is  only  a  make- 
believe  bear."  Upon  this  she  was  promptly  consigned 
to  the  maid  and  sent  to  bed  in  what  our  young  folks 
call  a  gale  of  laughter. 

"  Has  Xerxes  been  here  ? "  asked  St.  Clair. 
"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.     "  He  is  all  my  fancy 
painted  him,  and  more.     I  think  he  must  have  prof- 

430 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  431 

ited  by  his  visit.     Sibyl  Maywood  discoursed  to  him 
on  the  moralities." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Vincent !  "  cried  Sibyl.    "  I  had  to  say  it 

J n 

"Well,  and  what  did  you  say?"  said  St.  Glair. 

"  Tell  him,  Sibyl,"  said  my  wife.  Whereupon  she 
rather  shyly  narrated  our  interview  with  the  great 
man. 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Maywood,"  said  St.  Clair.  "  I 
am  sorry  I  was  not  there.  I  could  have  imagined 
what  you  all  said  or  would  not  say.  As  to  my  row 
with  Xerxes,  I  am  rather  indifferent  now;  I  never 
can  keep  a  vendetta  up  to  the  scalping-point.  Every 
body  asks  me  about  it.  Once  a  week  some  news 
paper  chiffonnier  adds  it  to  his  rag-basket  of  insolent 
personal  gossip.  I  suppose  I  made  a  fool  of  myself. 
The  worst  of  being  a  fool  is  that  experience  is  of  no 
use.  If  any  of  you  speak  to  me  about  Xerxes  I — 

Said  Clayborne:  "My  dear  Victor,  El-Din- Attar 
once  wrote :  l  When  thou  hast  dined  at  the  Inn  of 
Folly  do  not  dispute  the  bill.'  " 

"  I  do  not,"  said  St.  Clair.  "  I  came  away  with  a 
sweet  temper,  and,  by  George  !  not  the  whole  Atlantic 
can  keep  us  apart.  His  confounded  yacht  nearly  ran 
over  my  canoe.  I  said  in  his  native  dialect  unre 
peatable  things." 

"  So  he  told  us,"  said  Sibyl. 

Vincent  smiled.  "  He  thinks  you  liberally  edu 
cated  for  an  Eastern  man." 

"  I  am  often  amazed,"  said  Afton,  "  at  the  freaks 
of  the  rich.  Who  could  suppose  this  man  would 
really  like  the  sea  or  art  ?  I  presume  a  yacht  to  be 


432  DE.    NORTH  AND   HIS   FRIENDS 

essential  to  one  with  his  present  aims.  I  do  not 
believe  that  he  really  likes  yachting." 

"  He  may.  He  likes  all  manner  of  risks,"  said  I. 
"  He  is  a  connoisseur  in  emotions  of  peril.  Once  they 
were  financial.  Always  that  man  enjoys  danger." 

"  A  museum  of  risks  does  not  appeal  to  me,"  said 
my  wife. 

"  Well,  tastes  vary,"  said  Afton.  "  Nothing  is  more 
interesting  than  to  see  what  the  uneducated  man 
likes  to  do  when  something  releases  him  from  a  life 
of  toil." 

"  Most  of  them,"  said  I,  "  wabble  on  through  their 
days  without  doing  anything,  mildly  unhappy,  or 
perish  of  the  coarse  poisoning  of  too  good  a  table." 

"  Men  have  endless  possibilities  of  enjoyment,"  said 
St.  Clair.  "  Once  I  dined  at  Pearson's,  in  the  Strand 
in  London,  with  two  English  friends,  one  very  fat 
and  one  lean.  They  enjoyed  as  I  did  not  the  turtle 
soup  and  their  tasteless  venison.  They  drank,  with 
small  aid  from  me,  a  magnum  of  dry  champagne  and 
a  bottle  of  aggressively  strong  port.  When  we  had 
smoked  and  were  about  to  go,  my  friends  put  on 
their  top-coats.  Mine  was  missing.  At  this  time  we 
were  standing  in  what  they  call  the  smoking-divan. 
At  last  I  said  to  the  waiter, l  Here  is  my  card.  Some 
one  has,  by  mistake,  taken  my  coat.'  As  we  turned 
to  go,  my  stout  friend  felt  in  his  pocket  for  his  gloves 
and  pulled  out  a  letter.  I  saw  on  it  Vincent's  writ 
ing.  l  Good  gracious  ! '  said  I.  He  had  contrived 
to  put  on  my  coat  over  his  own.  We  laughed  at  this 
consequence  of  a  magnum,  and  turned  to  go.  Then 
a  stout  little  man  in  the  corner  said,  '  Excuse  me, 


DR.   NOKTH  AND  HIS  FKIENDS  433 

gents,  but  I  noticed  the  gent's  coat  did  n't  fit." 
My  friends  regarded  him  sternly.  Unabashed,  he 
went  on :  'I  notices  gents'  clothes.  I  am  a  tailor, 
but  I  ain't  in  business  now.  I  spends  my  evenin's 
here  a-studyin'  of  gents'  clothes.  It  don't  cost  no- 
thin',  and  it  kind  of  keeps  me  occupied.'  '  Indeed  ! ' 
said  I,  and  we  went  out.  This  was  one  man's  idea 
of  enjoyment.  Afton  spends  his  life  in  studying  the 
garments  called  character." 

"  We  all  do,"  said  Vincent ;  "  and  that  reminds  me. 
Did  you  not  promise,  North,  to  tell  us  the  story  of 
that  famous  Chapman  murder  ? " 

"  How  nice  !  "  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  Next  to  a  ghost- 
story  I  like  a  thrilling  murder." 

Then  we  discussed  De  Quincey  and  his  "  Two 
Famous  Murders"  until  Mrs.  Vincent  insisted  on 
my  story. 

"  This  is  a  true  story,"  I  said,  "  without  any  fanci 
ful  additions.  In  the  year  1831  lived  at  Andalusia, 
in  Bucks  County,  Pennsylvania,  an  old  clergyman 
named  William  Chapman.  Late  in  life  he  married 
a  woman  who  was  young,  clever,  and  handsome. 
One  day  a  man  called  Mina,  who  said  he  was  a  Span 
iard,  stopped  to  ask  assistance.  He  was  charitably 
treated  and  given  some  temporary  work  in  the  gar 
den.  Mina  was  much  younger  than  the  clergyman's 
wife.  He  was  handsome,  attractive,  and  spoke  very 
little  English.  His  account  of  his  family  and  how 
for  the  time  he  chanced  to  be  without  means  was 
plausible,  or  at  least  seemed  so  to  these  people. 

"  At  this  time  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chapman  kept  with 
some  success  a  school  in  which  Chapman  gave  in- 


434  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

struction  to  pupils  who  had  defects  in  speech.  Early 
in  May  Mina  promised  Mr.  Chapman  three  thousand 
dollars  for  the  instruction  in  English  which  he  de 
sired.  The  events  of  this  tragedy  followed  with 
amazing  rapidity.  The  woman  very  soon  became  the 
prey  of  this  man.  On  the  16th  of  May  they  went  to 
Philadelphia,  where  Mina  personally  bought  arsenic. 
On  June  23  the  reverend  gentleman  died  in  great 
agony,  poisoned. 

"The  story,  as  it  runs  on,  invites  comment.  As 
for  motive,  Chapman  had  saved  a  little  money; 
it  was  necessary  to  marry  the  widow  in  order  to 
obtain  certain  possession  of  this  and  also  of  her 
small  valuables.  The  murderer  was  reckless.  The 
woman  was  the  slave  of  a  passion  for  a  young  and 
handsome  man.  The  bare  statements  of  the  printed 
trial  do  not  contain  all  the  facts  as  I  remember 
to  have  heard  them.  The  murder  was  carried  out 
with  decision  and  with  a  certain  deliberate  care. 
After  buying  the  arsenic  Mina  is  said  to  have  tested 
its  power.  He  gave  it  to  a  dog,  and  by  multiplying 
his  weight  into  that  of  the  husband  hoped  to  attain 
efficiency  in  the  lethal  dose.  Of  this  nothing  is  said 
in  the  trial.  Several  efforts  failed  of  complete  suc 
cess,  but  on  the  23d  of  June  the  man  died.  His 
death  was  believed  to  have  been  caused  by  cholera 
morbus.  No  active  suspicion  was  aroused.  Let  me 
remind  you  that  he  died  on  the  23d  of  June.  On 
the  26th  of  June  the  victim  was  buried,  and  on  July  5 
the  widow  married  the  murderer.  Before  the  month 
was  out  he  left  her.  The  haste  of  this  marriage  and 
the  absence  of  precaution  seem  most  amazing.  Mina's 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  435 

later  conduct  was  as  foolish.  He  wrote  to  his  wife  from 
various  places,  and  at  last  from  Washington.  But 
now  the  woman,  who  may  have  been  the  confederate 
in  the  crime,  was  undeceived.  Lucretia— what  a 
name  in  the  annals  of  crime  '.—wrote  to  Mina  a  letter 
of  passionate  appeal.  In  it  she  used  a  phrase  full  of 
peril :  '  Mina,  when  I  pause  for  a  moment  I  am  con 
strained  to  acknowiedge  that  I  do  not  believe  God 
will  permit  either  you  or  me  to  be  happy  for  a  mo 
ment  this  side  of  the  grave.' 

"The  incident  which  brought  Mina's  letters  to 
the  light  of  justice  is  not  told  in  the  trial.  A 
Spaniard,  whose  name  was  either  Minos  or  some 
thing  as  near  to  Mina,  had  committed,  as  I  recall 
it,  forgery.  Orders  were  issued  to  detain  all  letters 
to  him.  A  clerk  sent  with  these,  to  the  Depart 
ment  of  State,  Lucretia's  letter.  It  was  hastily 
opened  and  the  mistake  as  to  the  name  observed. 
It  was  about  to  be  returned  to  the  post  when  a  junior 
secretary  remarked  to  his  superior  that  it  seemed  to 
allude  to  a  crime.  Upon  this  it  was  sent  to  the  Re 
corder,  so  called,  of  Philadelphia,  whence  the  letter 
had  been  mailed.  Here  it  gave  rise  to  much  interest, 
but  seemed  to  give  no  needed  clue.  At  last  it  was 
resolved  to  return  it  to  the  Washington  post-office 
and  set  a  watch  on  whoever  asked  for  it.  Just  here 
comes  in  another  strange  turn  of  fate.  A  captain 
of  police  asked  to  look  at  the  letter.  '  I  know  the 
writing/  he  said.  He  received  permission  to  examine 
it  at  leisure.  In  three  days  he  came  again.  '  Mr. 
Recorder/  he  said,  '  I  used  years  ago  to  read  proof  in 
a  printing  establishment.  We  printed  a  book  on 


436  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

shorthand  by  a  clergyman  named  Chapman.  He 
lived  at  Andalusia.  His  wife  copied  parts  of  it. 
This  is  her  writing.  Here  is  some  of  the  proof  re 
tained  as  evidence  of  the  work  done  or  of  a  contract 
completed/ 

"  A  very  little  inquiry  aroused  suspicion.  Lucretia 
was  arrested  and  fainted.  Mina  was  caught,  and 
at  the  trial,  for  the  first  time  in  America,  chemi 
cal  experts  swore  to  the  results  of  their  analysis. 
Arsenic  was  found  in  the  stomach.  And  now  again 
fate  seemed  to  set  against  Mina.  No  one  saw  him 
give  the  poison.  His  wife's  evidence  could  not  be 
used  against  her  husband ;  and,  in  fact,  she  too  was  on 
trial.  No  distinct  proof  existed  as  to  Mina's  having 
bought  the  arsenic.  He  had  a  quite  fair  chance  of 
escape.  At  this  time  Mr.  Reed,  the  assistant  attorney 
for  the  prosecution,  was  going  into  the  court-house, 

when  he  met  a  young  law-student,  Mr.  G .  Reed 

said, '  Come  in  and  see  this  fellow  Mina.'  G said  he 

should  like  to  do  so.  As  they  passed  near  the  prisoner, 
Mr.  G said, '  Mr.  Reed,  I  saw  this  man  once,  some 
time  in  June.  He  is  peculiar-looking.  He  was  buying 
arsenic  to  kill  rats.  It  was  in  Durand's  apothecary- 
shop.'  This  evidence  was  fatal." 

"  And  he  was  hanged  ? "  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  Yes." 

"What  of  the  woman  Lucretia?"  asked  Sibyl 

"  She  was  acquitted." 

"  Oh,  she  was  the  worse  of  the  two.  I  am  sure  she 
helped  him." 

"  Many  thought  her  as  guilty  as  he,"  said  I. 

"  What  became  of  her?"  asked  my  wife. 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  437 

"  She  kept,  under  an  assumed  name,  a  fairly  suc 
cessful  boarding-school  in  New  Orleans." 

"  What  an  interesting  tale  !  "  said  Vincent.  "  I 
wonder  what  proportion  of  murders  do  out." 

"  You  frequently  see  that  the  law  fails  to  find  crim 
inals."  It  was  Clayborne  who  spoke.  "  But,  apart 
from  murders  thus  openly  known,  there  must  be 
many  of  which  no  one  save  the  slayer  ever  knows." 

"  A  famous  detective,"  said  I,  "  told  me  that  one 
fourth  of  all  murderers  escape  detection." 

"  I  should  think  the  estimate  large,"  said  Afton. 
"But  one  must  define  murder  first.  What  we  call 
murder  is  not  so  called  in  some  parts  of  Mr.  Xerxes's 
country.  I  saw  in  a  Western  paper  a  l  census  of  the 
deaths '  which  occurred  in  a  county  during  one  year 
from  causes  not  natural.  They  were  classified  as  in 
tentional,  accidental,  and  incidental,  these  latter 
being  deaths  by  pistol  or  bowie-knife.  '  Intentional ' 
was  meant  to  cover  long-premeditated  murder.  Of 
this  class  so  many  were  acquitted,  and  so  many  i  mer 
cifully  relieved  by  the  sheriff  from  the  possibility  of 
future  temptation.'  This  mode  of  statement  was,  I 
suppose,  regarded  as  what  a  Western  newspaper  lately 
described  as  i  amusive.'  " 

"  I  doubt  if  the  word  be  needed,"  said  Clayborne, 
gravely.  "  Our  newspaper  wit  is  bad,  because  it  is  so 
often  out  of  place,  so  excessive,  so  persistently  funny 
in  the  wrong  place.  The  heading  of  a  grave  accident 
is  jocose,  that  of  a  comic  incident  is  serious.  How 
ever,  Mr.  Afton,  this  is  a  favored  text  for  our  sermons 
of  abuse.  I  meant  to  turn  the  talk  a  little.  There  is 
such  a  thing  among  us  as  humor ;  it  exults  in  excess, 

29 


438  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

in  extravagance,  in  exaggeration  ;  but  what  I  want 
now  is  to  ask  you  all  if  humor  be  not  with  us  a  some 
what  recent  addition  to  our  national  characteristics." 

Vincent  said :  "  Probably  that  is  true.  Before, 
during,  and  even  long  after  the  Revolution  we  had 
the  crude  fun  and  hearty  jokes  of  our  English  ances 
try.  During  that  war  the  songs,  broadsides,  and  so 
on  were  certainly  not  witty,  or  what  we  should  to-day 
class  as  humorous.  I  have  read  many.  l  The  Battle 
of  the  Kegs '  is  by  far  the  best." 

"  Perhaps  they  seemed  funny  then.  Tastes  change/' 
said  I.  "  There  was  no  l  funny  column ;  in  the  papers. 
What  humor  came  later  was  in  the  almanacs." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  my  wife,  "  how  i  Pickwick '  would 
present  itself  to  Fielding.  Would  our  fun  be  funny 
to  Addison,  our  humor  such  to  Sterne  or  Steele  ? " 

"  Ah,  if  one  could  know !  "  said  I. 

"  I  think,"  remarked  Clayborne,  "  it  would  be  pos 
sible  to  discover  when  the  newspaper  began  to  have 
a  comic  column,  when  our  peculiar  humor  was 
born." 

St.  Clair  said :  "  The  books  are  easily  found.  I 
mean  those  which  especially  represent  our  life  under 
humorous  aspects.  Sam  Slick  is  the  eldest  of  the 
family ;  but  that  was  a  Canadian  product." 

"  I  have  played  a  little,"  said  Clayborne,  "  with  the 
idea  of  writing  a  history  of  wit  and  humor." 

I  saw  my  wife  give  a  side  glance  of  amusement  to 
the  address  of  Mrs.  Vincent,  who  had  half  turned  with 
a  like  critical  purpose.  The  notion  of  a  book  on 
humor  by  this  scholar  struck  the  two  women  as  un 
speakably  diverting.  The  thing  being  past  human 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  439 

power  to  talk  about  calmly,  they  smiled  with,  gentle 
unanimity. 

St.  Clair  said :  «  Why  not  do  it  ? » 

Clayborne  went  on  gravely :  "  One  must  consider 
the  quality  of  wit,  humor,  fun,  among  barbarous 
people,  among  the  classic  races,  the  rise  of  these 
forms  of  human  statement  among  civilized  people, 
the  relation  of  wit  and  humor  to  genius,  as  to  what 
feeds  and  what  discourages  national  wit  and  humor, 
biblical  jests." 

"  In  a  word,"  said  Af ton,  "  the  psychology  of  the 
comic  historically  considered." 

"  But  to  do  that,"  said  St.  Clair,  "  one  should  sit  in 
judgment  on  the  wit,  humor,  and  fun  of  all  ages. 
And  no  one  age  would  be  a  competent  tribunal  for 
the  fun  of  another  j  still  less  would  one  man  be  com 
petent.  Shakespeare's  clowns  are  not  comical  to  most 
educated  people  to-day." 

"  They  are  to  the  gallery,"  said  I,  "  and  are  cer 
tainly  true  to  their  time.  I,  for  one,  enjoy  them." 

"  And,  pray,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  would  your  book 
consider  relatively  the  wit  and  humor  of  men  and 
women  ? " 

" Why  not ?"  said  Clayborne.  "What  two  races 
of  mankind  differ  as  much  as  do  men  and  women  ? " 

"  What  a  droll  statement !  "  said  Af  ton.  "  You 
would  find  it  difficult.  Women  are  often  witty,  but 
less  often  humorous,  or  the  productive  mothers  of 
that  which  causes  laughter." 

"  Indeed !  "  said  my  wife,  with  indignation  j  "  and 
yet  they  are  the  mothers  of  men." 

St.  Clair  clapped  his  hands  gleefully.     "A  good 


440  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

defense/'  lie  cried,  as  we  laughed  applause  at  her 
mot. 

"  We  are  not  to  be  joked  aside,  madam/'  said  I. 
"What  woman  has  written  a  striking  book  with 
humor  as  the  dominant  note  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  think  that  over/'  replied  Mrs.  Vin 
cent.  "I  should,  I  think,  conclude  that  feminine 
humor  is  often  to  be  found  in  books,  but  that  it  is  of 
a  gentle  type,  like  my  dear  Jane  Austen's  or  that  of 
'  Cranford/  and  that  it  is  more  common  of  late.  I  shall 

write  to  Miss  M and  ask  her  about  it.  And  by 

the  way,  that  reminds  me,  Fred  told  me,  Dr.  North, 
of  your  continuance  of  Mr.  Xerxes's  discussion  of 

honor.  I  wrote  of  this  to  Miss  M ,  and  here  is 

her  reply."  So  saying,  she  took  a  note  from  her 
work-basket,  and  read : 

"  i  Although,  my  dear  Anne,  as  you  say,  the  French 
word  honneur  and  the  Italian  onore  do  not  convey  to 
the  Anglo-Saxon  mind  the  idea  of  our  word  "  honor," 
I  think  there  is  no  better  definition  of  it  than  "  no 
blesse  oblige,"  provided  we  give  to  "  noblesse,"  as  we 
instinctively  do,  the  ideal  meaning  of  nobility  of 
character,  and  not  merely  the  limited  French  accep 
tation  of  the  phrase,  which,  as  they  understand  it, 
states  a  principle  of  conduct  based  on  pride  of  race, 
such  as  almost  precludes  the  idea  of  individual  choice 
and  character.  Their  motto  has  the  sad,  impersonal, 
fateful  ring  of  an  unchangeable  destiny,  as  though 
one  said :  "  I  must  be  fine  whether  I  will  or  not,  and 
no  one  below  me  can.  It  is  mine  inheritance."  ' 

"  And  yet,"  said  Vincent,  "  that  has  its  influence." 

"  Sadly  little,"  said  Clayborne. 


DR.  NORTH  AND   HIS  FRIENDS  441 

"  I  do  not  agree  with  you,"  said  I. 

"Nor  I,"  said  St.  Clair. 

"  Ah,  must  you  go,  Dr.  Afton  ? "  said  Vincent. 
"  Before  we  consign  our  talk  to  the  forge tfulness  of 
to-morrow,  let  me  ask  why  the  Irish  poor,  who  are 
so  witty  and  so  humorous  amid  their  home  poverty, 
lose  these  qualities  as  soon  as  they  are  set  down  here 
in  more  prosperous  surroundings." 

"Is  it  true?  "said  I. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Afton.  "  I  scarcely  recall  an 
amusing  thing  ever  said  to  me  in  this  country  by  the 
Irish.  At  home  it  is  constant.  Yes,  I  remember 
one." 

"  And  that?"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  I  remember  that  it  was  amusing.  "What  it 
was  I  forget." 

"  What  an  unsatisfactory  man  !  "  said  my  wife. 

"  Good  night,  Dr.  Afton,"  said  Vincent.  "  Come 
soon  again,  and  please  to  bring  your  memory  with 
you." 


XXVI 

WAS  annoyed  next  day  to  receive  a 
summons  to  go  to  Boston.  It  was  to 
consult  in  the  case  of  an  old  friend. 
For  me  the  call  was  imperative.  I 
went  most  reluctantly  and  was  absent 
four  days.  It  was  after  dinner  on  a  Sunday  even 
ing  when  I  returned.  Refreshed  by  a  bath  and  a 
change  of  garments,  I  supped,  and  with  my  wife  went 
out  to  join  our  friends  on  Vincent's  porch.  I  took 
my  cigar  and  sat  down. 

"  Tell  us  some  new  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent ;  "  you 
always  have  something  to  tell.     We  are  moldering  for 
lack  of  contact  with  the  world  that  moves.'7 
"  The  mackerel  are  in  the  bay,"  replied  Vincent. 
Said  Clayborne :  "  I  have  found  the  glacier  pot-holes 
on  Mount  Pemetic." 

"  And  Mr.  St.  Clair  has  been  angelic,"  cried  Mrs. 
Vincent.  "  And  now  for  you.  I  am  sure  you  have  had 
adventures." 

"  He  always  has,"  said  my  wife. 
"  Indeed,"  said  I,  "  I  had  one  mishap.  Near  Port 
land  we  had  a  collision,  not  very  bad,  luckily.  I  was 
standing  up  in  the  smoking-car.  The  glass  crashed, 
the  floor  was  heaved  upward,  and  the  platforms  were 
crushed.  I  was  thrown  across  the  cars.  No  one  was 

442 


DE.  NOETH  AND  HIS  FEIENDS  443 

seriously  hurt.  I  had,  however,  a  queer  experience. 
I  was  very  giddy  and  as  if  seasick.  I  sat  on  the  side 
of  the  embankment  and  was  given  brandy  by  a  young 
woman  with  red  hair.  When,  being  better,  I  climbed 
into  the  half-wrecked  car,  I  found  my  bag,  but  a 
novel  in  which  I  was  deeply  interested  had  been  lost 
or  stolen.  From  that  hour  I  have  been  trying  to 
recall  the  name  of  the  book  or  the  author.  I  lost  re 
membrance  of  much  of  the  story.  I  remember  that 
it  interested  me  deeply,  and  that  the  tale  was  at  a 
crisis.  Then  came  the  crash,  and  it  was  gone.  No 
doubt  you  know  that  a  bad  fall  or  a  blow  on  the 
head  may,  if  violent,  destroy  recently  accumulated 
memories." 

"We  have  talked  of  this  before,"  said  Clayborne. 
"  It  seems  as  if  when  the  memory  acquires  what  I  may 
call,  in  photographer's  language,  a  negative,  a  period 
of  undisturbed  quiet  is  needed  to  develop  it  into  per 
manence." 

"  That  is  a  happy  illustration,"  said  I,  "  the  idea 
of  a  memorial  impression  being  like  a  photographic 
negative.  Then  when  we  wish,  the  consciousness 
creates  a  positive." 

"  Unless,"  said  Vincent,  "  a  shock  or  what  not  has 
injured  the  negative  image." 

"  I  think  this  time  my  negative  got  broken,"  said 
I.  "  I  can  recall  nothing  of  my  lost  book.  As  an 
experience  it  entirely  suffices  for  me." 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  this  is  all  very  inter 
esting  to  you  and  Mr.  Clayborne,  but  as  for  me,  I 
remember  nothing,  and  I  still  await  the  adventure." 

"  I  had  no  other  adventure.     You  are  hard  to  sat- 


444  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

isfy.  I  did  have  two  interesting  talks.  Shall  I  tell 
of  them?" 

"  Of  course/'  said  Vincent. 

"  I  met  a  man  from  Boston  on  my  way  southward. 
It  was  he  who  was  interrogative,  and  not  I.  In  fact, 
I  was  cross  and  not  in  a  mood  for  conversation. 
However,  the  man  was  persistent  and  asked  ques 
tions.  I  told  him  a  good  deal  about  war  and  other 
matters.  When  he  learned  that  I  was  a  doctor,  he 
laughed  and  said  he  was  more  used  to  quacks.  On 
this  I  in  turn  became  curious,  and,  on  frankly  asking, 
learned  that  he  was  called  a  promoter.  It  seems  that 
there  are  many  varieties  of  this  animal.  My  trav 
eling  companion  was  a  person  consulted  as  to  the 
probable  success  of  novelties  in  the  way  of  quack 
remedies.  Will  they  sell?  How  much  money  will 
be  needed  to  test  commercially  the  credulity  of  men  ? 
Advice  is  given  as  to  the  name  of  the  new  pill  or 
potion.  Alliterative  labels  are  best.  What  he  called 
1  freak '  names  are  desirable.  He  was  proud  of  the 
K  K,  '  Kolic  Kure/  and  of  the  '  Health  Hoist'  tonic. 
About  one  in  a  hundred  of  the  quack  medicines  has 
any  success,  and  the  cost  of  advertising  is  immense. 
His  career  at  last  interested  me.  He  began  his  busi 
ness  life  as  a  boy  in  a  drug-shop.  When  about 
twenty  he  saw  an  advertisement  asking  for  new 
modes  of  catching  the  ear  or  eye  of  the  public.  I 
shall  try  to  let  him  tell  it  in  his  own  way.  1 1  was 
pretty  smart,  doctor,  and  I  set  to  thinking  it  over. 
Oh,  mostly  the  notions  I  got  on  to  were  right  good, 
and  the  thing  kept  me  alive.  When  I  made  the 
great  stroke  on  the  S.  S.  I  was  set  up  for  life.'  t  The 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  445 

S.  S.  ? '  I  asked.  He  seemed  a  little  mortified  that  I 
should  never  have  heard  of  this  achievement.  I  have 
seen  famous  authors  who  have  felt  a  similar  sense  of 
disappointment  as  to  their  books.  The  S.  S.,  it  seems, 
was  a  brand  of  cigarettes.  The  letters  stood  origi 
nally  for  Schlief  &  Son.  He  said : '  I  saw  these  people 
and  showed  them  my  idea.  There  was  to  be  a  blank 
card  in  a  black  envelop.  "  S.  S.  Try  to  guess"  was 
printed  in  gold  on  it,  and  below,  "  Open  this  and  keep 
card  in  a  warm  place,  and  then  you  will  know."  The 
thing  is  to  make  folks  curious.  You  print  a  placard 
upside  down  or  spell  a  word  backward,  and  every 
second  man  will  be  mad  to  read  them.'  '  That  is 
true/  said  I.  *  Go  on/  '  My  envelop  did  the  trick. 
Everybody  warmed  those  cards.  As  soon  as  they 
were  hot  out  came,  "  S.  S.  stands  for  Sin  Segarettes, 
because  they  are  so  pleasant."  Oh,,  it  sold  'em.  Af 
ter  a  bit  I  did  verses  for  the  cards.  It  was  a  simple 
chemical  trick.  The  verses  came  out  when  you  heated 
the  cards.  Later  on  I  hired  a  poet.  He  makes  now 
about  five  thousand  a  year.  S.  &  S.  tried  to  get 
verses  out  of  the  real  swell  poets.  I  did  hear  they 
offered  Lowell  a  thousand  for  ten  verses  about 
tobacco.' " 

"  The  story  is  true.  He  told  me  so,"  said  Vincent, 
"  or  at  least  that  he  had  once  been  invited  to  do  this 
kind  of  thing." 

"  What  an  opening  !  "  said  St.  Clair. 

"As  a  curiosity-trap,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "S.  S. 
seems  to  be  admirable.  "Who  would  not  take  the 
bait?" 

My  account  gave  rise  to  a  long  talk  about  advertise- 


446  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

ments,  and  at  last  to  a  long  and  learned  lecture  by 
Clayborne  on  advertisements  in  Rome  and  Greece.  I 
saw  my  wife  yawn  behind  her  fan,  but  Sibyl  listened 
with  rapt  attention. 

Mrs.  Vincent  said,  "  Excuse  me,"  and  leaving  us, 
went  indoors  and  ordered  tea.  When  the  servant  an 
nounced  it  and  asked  should  he  bring  it  out  to  the 
porch,  we,  with  one  accord,  rose  and  went  in,  declar 
ing  our  thirst,  and  that  it  was  too  cold  outside.  The 
last  I  heard  of  the  essay  was  something  about  adver 
tisements  of  Greek  slaves,  and  then  Clayborne,  who 
liked  archaeology  well,  but  tea  better,  followed  my 
wife.  These  spoken  essays  were  rare  penalties  of 
friendship. 

After  cups  enough  to  have  satisfied  Dr.  Johnson, 
and  big  enough  to  have  shocked  the  female  taste  of  his 
day,  Clayborne  resigned  himself  to  thought  and  a  cigar. 

A  little  later  Mrs.  Vincent  remarked :  "  We  are  to 
have  the  Rev.  Mr.  L next  Sunday." 

"  English,  is  n't  he  ?  "  asked  Vincent. 

"  Yes.     He  worships  Gud,"  said  I. 

"  We  had  a  man  last  week,"  said  Sibyl,  "  who  prayed 
to  Gawde." 

"  He  is  an  old  acquaintance,"  said  my  wife.  "  He 
knows  that  he  drawls  out '  Gawde/  and  once  defended 
it  to  Mr.  Vincent,  assuring  him  that  it  was  more  re 
spectful  than  to  say  l  God.'  But  in  fact  few  clergymen 
can  say  l  God/  or  ever  do.  In  England  men  worship 
Gud  or  Gawde." 

"  Your  Mr.  L ,"  said  I,  "  who  is  to  preach  here 

must  be  the  very  pleasant  clergyman  with  whom  I 
talked  on  the  steamboat.  He  is  rector  of  a  church  in 


DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  447 

Nova  Scotia,  and  had  been  on  a  visit  to  Boston.  He 
was  on  his  homeward  way,  and,  I  suppose,  has  been 
asked  to  preach  here.  I  found  him  very  agreeable, 
but  not  in  the  sense  of  agreeing  with  me.  Far  from 
it.  We  differed  on  nearly  every  subject  we  touched. 
When  the  steamer  stopped  at,  I  think  it  was  Rockland, 
Mr.  L and  I  were  on  the  upper  deck,  quietly  en 
joying  the  fine  scenery  of  the  islands  about  us.  I  saw 
come  aboard  on  the  lower  deck  three  young  men, 
probably  clerks  or  baggage-agents.  One  sat  down  on 
a  barrel  and  lit  a  cigar.  The  three  were  evidently 
discussing  some  very  exciting  matter.  Just  before 
the  plank  was  removed  a  rather  older  man  came  on 
board.  He  went  at  once  up  to  the  group.  I  shall 
call  him  A.  He  said  in  an  angry  voice  to  No.  1,  l  You 
lied  to-day.'  No.  1  said,  <I  did  not,  and  you  know 
it.'  Then  said  A  to  No.  2,  l  You  are  a  liar,  too.'  l  No/ 
No.  2  returned  j  '  you  are  the  liar,  not  me.'  Lastly  A 
said  to  No.  3,  'You  are  the  worst  liar  of  the  lot.' 
No.  3  got  off  the  barrel  and  knocked  down  A." 

"  That  is  pretty  nearly  an  adventure,"  said  Mrs. 
Vincent.  "  Do  tell  us  the  rest." 

"  A  got  up  and  walked  away." 

"  But  how  mysterious  !  " 

"  Yes.  I  learned  later  that  the  younger  men  had 
been  that  morning  witnesses  in  a  lawsuit  against  A, 
but  what  about  I  do  not  know.  My  clerical  friend 
had  looked  on  with  curious  tranquillity.  I  said :  l  Mr. 

L ,  which  of  the  three  did  the  right  thing  ? '  He 

replied  :  '  That  depends  on  the  cause  of  the  quarrel. 
Certainly  he  who  struck  was  wrong ;  but  I  am  always 
distressed  to  find  that  I  sympathize  more  than  is  right 


448  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

with  violence.  I  was  long  in  the  army.  I  became 
convinced  that  all  war  is  wicked.  I  left  the  service 
of  the  Queen.'" 

"  I  am  sure,  Owen/'  said  my  wife,  "  that  you  set  to 
work  to  bewilder  that  man  about  war." 

"  I  did." 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed." 

"  But  I  am  not.  I  merely  reported  my  honest  con 
victions." 

"  But  why  bother  a  soul  at  rest  with  your  uneasy 
convictions  ? " 

"  I  had  to  say  something." 

"  Well,  if  that  is  your  only  defense,  I  am  at  one 
with  Alice,"  said  Anne  Vincent.  "  Men  are  never  at 
rest  about  their  beliefs,  and  go  about  to  trouble  quiet- 
minded  folks." 

"  I  was  not  very  wicked.  I  had  to  defend  my 
opinion.  The  man  said  that  no  man  who  was  a 
Christian  could  believe  war  to  be  right.  He  made 
the  usual  commonplace  statements  as  to  turning  the 
other  cheek  and  offering  non-resistance  to  violence. 
I  said  that  war,  like  personal  violence,  was  only  justi 
fiable  in  cases  where  law  was  not  available  and  a  great 
wrong  was  being  done.  My  clergyman  declared  this 
to  be  against  the  teaching  of  Christ." 

"  Of  course  you  went  further,"  said  my  wife. 

"  I  did,  and  this  was  what  shocked  the  man  most. 
I  said  that  Christ  gave  to  his  disciples  certain  rules  of 
conduct,  and  that  these  were  clearly  meant  for  a 
chosen  few." 

"  That  is  Mr.  Clayborne's  exegetic  thunder,"  said 
Vincent. 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  449 

"  Or  some  one  else's,"  said  I.  "  But  no  matter.  It 
is  true.  It  did  not,  as  I  see  it,  include  entire  non- 
resistance,  for  that  would  put  an  end  to  order  and 
to  progress.  The  most  remarkable  praise  which 
fell  from  Christ's  lips  is  given  to  a  professional 
soldier.  Nor  is  he  told  to  sin  no  more  or  to  give  up 
a  wicked  business.  When  the  man  Christ  drove  out 
the  money-changers,  it  was  with  violence,  not  by  act 
ing  through  a  miracle,  but  as  a  man  using  righteous 
weapons.  Was  there  no  resistance?  Is  it  likely 
there  was  not  ?  The  soldier,  we  are  told,  was  to  be 
contented  with  his  wages.  He  was  not  to  quit  the 
business  of  war.  Let  me  defend  myself  further.  If 
the  commentary  of  common  sense  be  refused  an  opin 
ion  on  the  ethics  of  Christ,  we  meet  with  certain  dis 
aster.  The  charity  and  moderation  of  his"  opinions 
are  best  represented  in  the  few  verses  which  follow, 
in  St.  Mark,  his  decree  as  to  divorce.  This  is  a  brief 
summary  of  what  I  said.  I  declared  at  last  that  if 
our  creed  made  all  war,  personal  and  national,  an 
impossible  thing  for  an  honest  follower  of  Christ,  I 
should  cease  to  rest  quiet  in  the  church.  After  I  said 

this  Mr.  L remained  a  long  time  silent.  Then  he 

said:  'I  left  the  army  because  it  seemed  to  me  a 
wicked  profession.  I  was  better  fitted  for  it  than  for 
the  pulpit.  I  wish  I  could  have  felt  as  you  do.  Oh, 
long  ago  I  was  a  pretty  good  centurion.7  n 

"Ah,  I  am  sorry  for  him,"  said  Sibyl. 

"  And  I,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  That  Roman  officer 
is  pretty  convincing." 

"  It  should  not  need  argument,"  said  I.  "  If  ever 
you  and  I,  Vincent,  served  God  well  it  was  in  those 


450  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

bitter  years  of  war,  and  I  told  the  man  so.  He  said : 
i  I  am  glad  not  to  have  had  that  trial.  We  must  go 
our  own  ways.  See  how  differently  you  and  I  regard 
a  grave  question.'  After  this  he  was  silent  a  little 
while,  and  then  added :  l  Christianity  has  many  labels, 
but  how  vast  was  that  personality  from  which  such 
numberless  forms  of  belief  have  claimed  descent! 
I  sometimes  think  that  the  Christ  will  outlast 
Christianity.' " 

"  And  what  did  you  say,  Owen  ? "  asked  my  wife. 
"  I  hardly  understand  his  last  phrase.'7 

"  Well,  I  said  nothing,  or  nothing  relevant,  because 
just  then  I  burned  my  finger  with  a  match,  also  a 
shower  drove  us  in,  and,  between  fire  and  water,  the 
talk  broke  up.  I  hope  I  did  not  annoy  him." 

"  You  can  be  very  positive,  Owen,"  remarked  my 
wife. 

"  I  asked  him  to  dinner,  Alice." 

"Owen  thinks  that  covers  many  sins.  Will  he 
come  ?  " 

"No,  he  could  not." 

"  Well,  it  is  bedtime,"  said  my  wife.  "  I  hope  he 
will  revenge  himself  in  his  Sunday  sermon.  The 
other  cheek  of  logic  is  never  turned.  What  is  it, 
Sibyl?" 

Miss  May  wood  detained  them,  saying :  "  Oh,  talk 
ing  of  quarrels,  that  reminds  me  to  tell  you  some 
thing  which  Mr.  Afton— Dr.  Afton,  I  mean— told  me 
of  a  woman  he  knew,  a  maiden  lady  who  was  deaf  and 
dumb.  He  said  she  was  a  person  of  remarkable  edu 
cation  and  of  singular  gentleness.  She  was  one  of  a 
family  of  strong,  vehement  people,  who  held  diverse 


DR.   NORTH   AND   HIS   FRIENDS  451 

opinions  as  to  religion,  politics,  and  much  besides. 
They  quarreled  endlessly,  and  had  it  not  been  for 
Miss  C-  -  would  have  been  long  ago  hopelessly 
separated." 

"And  how,"  said  Vincent,  " could  a  deaf-and- 
dumb  woman  influence  such  people  ? " 

"  That  was  the  curious  thing.  They  all  loved  her 
and  all  respected  her.  To  be  able  to  talk  with  her 
they  had  learned  the  finger  sign-language.  None  of 
them  used  it  very  readily.  When  she  observed  them 
to  be  in  one  of  their  heated  talks  she  began  to  speak 
with  her  sign-language.  Its  use  was  for  them  such  a 
deliberate  matter,  so  much  more  tranquil  and  slow 
than  speech,  that  the  discussion  inevitably  cooled,  and 
ended  by  every  one  getting  quieted." 

"  How  delightful,  Fred  !  "  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  Sup 
pose  we  introduce  that  into  the  acrimony  of  our 
household  debates." 

Vincent  smiled,  but  said  nothing. 

"  I  am  glad  that  Sibyl  kept  us  up,"  said  my  wife. 
"  It  is  very  early." 

Every  one  laughed,  and  we  all  sat  down. 

"  Suppose  we  send  up,"  said  St.  Clair,  "  and  fetch 
down  Clayborne.  This  promises  a  discussion  which 
may  easily  become  historical.  I  affirm  that  to  be 
entirely  silent  is  the  best  mode  of  keeping  the  peace. 
It  is  my  sole  chance." 

"  Oh,  no,"  cried  Sibyl.  "  What  is,  what  can  be,  so 
exasperating  to  the  other  people?  The  deaf-and- 
dumb  talk  seems  to  me  admirable.  But  perhaps 
they  have— oh,  perhaps  they  bite  thumbs  at  one 
another." 


452  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  And  to  shake  your  fist,"  said  Vincent,  "  is  expres 
sive." 

"Ah,"  cried  St.  Clair,  "of  all  the  eternally  silent 
people  I  want  to  chat  with,  there  is  one — 

"  Only  one  ? "  broke  in  my  wife. 

"  Oh,  this  one  never  spoke.  She  was  born — I 
may  assume  that  she  was  born;  certainly  she  was 
named.  Of  all  a  delightful  company  who  talked 
a  great  deal,  she  alone  said  nothing.  I  can  see 
her,  and  twice  her  name  is  used.  She  is  tall, 
stately,  middle-aged,  and  forever  merely  a  name. 
She  slips  away  unheard,  with  her  finger  on  her 
lips." 

"  What  a  pretty  riddle  !  "  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  Who  is  it  ?    Who  can  it  be  ? "  cried  Sibyl. 

"  Guess." 

"  I  know,"  said  Vincent. 

"Well?" 

"  Imogen,  Leonato's  wife,  the  mother  of  Hero." 

"  Of  course,"  cried  Alice.  "  The  mother  of  Hero. 
How  dull  of  us  !  It  is  in  l  Much  Ado  about  Nothing.' 
Was  she  a  printer's  or  player's  mistake  ?  Did  Shake 
speare  mean  her  to  be  in  the  play  ?  Did  he  forget 
her?" 

"Who  knows?  "said  St.  Clair.  "When  I  found 
this  mother  of  Hero  in  an  old  folio,  she  went  with 
me  silent  through  the  play,  broken-hearted  for  her 
child's  sorrows.  Let  no  one  disenchant  me  concern 
ing  this  immortal  silent  one."  He  went  on :  "  The 
modern  editors  left  out  the  name  of  this  neglected 
lady— at  least,  Rowe  and  Pope  did,  and  every  one 
since.  I  made  a  little  verse  about  her." 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  453 

"Well,"  said  my  wife,  who  had  listened  silently. 
"  This  is  it,"  said  St.  Clair.     "  Please  to  like  it. 

Immortal  shadow,  faint  and  ever  fair, 

Dear  for  unspoken  words  that  might  have  been, 
Compelled  to  silent  sorrow  none  may  share, 

A  ghost  of  Shakespeare's  world,  unheard,  unseen. 
How  many  more,  like  thee,  have  voiceless  stood 

Uncalled  upon  the  threshold  of  his  mind, 
The  speechless  children  of  a  mighty  brood, 

Who  were  and  are  not !     Never  shall  they  find 
The  happier  comrades  unto  whom  he  gave 

Thought,  speech,  and  action ;  they  who  shall  not  know 
The  end  of  our  realities,  the  grave, 

Nor  what  is  sadder,  life,  or  any  human  woe." 

"  Thank  you/'  we  said.     "  Thank  you." 

"  That  was  your  riddle,"  cried  Sibyl,  "  Shakespeare's 
dumb  child.  What  a  pleasant  thought  to  take  into 
sleep  !  "  She  had  listened  intently,  bending  forward, 
a  little  flushed. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent  to  St.  Clair.  "  Is 
that  all?" 

"  No,  but  I  forget  the  rest.  The  wind-up  is  com 
monplace." 

"  Ah,"  said  Sibyl,  as  they  rose,  "  where  now  are 
the  thoughts  which  Shakespeare  never  put  in  words  ? 
Does  thought  ever  die  ?  Where  are  they  ? " 

"  In  dreams,  no  doubt,"  cried  my  wife,  laughing. 
"  Let  us  go  and  find  them.  Good  night,  everybody." 


XXVII 

JT.  CLAIR  went  and  came,  but  appeared 
to  me  to  avoid  being  alone  with  Miss 
Maywood.  When  together  in  the  com 
pany  of  others  neither  he  nor  she 
seemed  to  afford  occasion  for  comment. 
But  it  was  hard  to  say  what  might  chance  with  a 
man  like  Victor.  He  might  be  entirely  convinced 
of  the  wisdom  of  a  course,  and  then  of  a  sudden 
startle  one  by  some  contradictory  action. 

Late  one  afternoon,  when  all  but  Sibyl  and  this 
writer  had  gone  on  a  long  walk,  I  strolled  to  the 
beach,  and  met  Sibyl  coming  up  from  the  slip.  Her 
gait  had  never  been  that  of  a  strong  woman,  and  now, 
as  she  came  near  to  me,  I  saw  her  sway  a  little  and 
then  stop  and  lean  against  one  of  the  old  apple-trees. 
I  turned  and  said :  "  Take  my  arm,  Sibyl.  What  is 
wrong  with  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing ;  I  am  not  very  strong.     I  want  to  learn 
to  paddle  a  canoe.     Mr.  St.  Clair  said  he  would  give 
me  a  lesson.     We  were  out  only  a  half -hour.77 
"  It  was  imprudent.     St.  Clair  has  no  sense.77 
"  Oh,  but  he  was  most  interesting." 
This  seemed  to  me  an  odd  reply. 
"  But,  really,  you  should—77 
"  Yes,  I  know.     Was  I  very  naughty  ? 77 
454 


DK.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  455 

"You  were." 

u  I  am  very  tired;  I  think  I  was  born  tired.  Even 
to  talk  long  with  you  tires  me.  But  Mr.  St.  Glair 
does  tire  me  most.  If  I  am  very  attentive,  that  is 
worst  of  all." 

I  left  her  at  my  own  door  and  went  back  to  find 
Victor. 

To  scold  him  was  useless.  He  had  now  the  child 
like  look  of  one  expecting  to  be  blamed.  I  pleasantly 
surprised  him  by  saying : 

"  And  did  Sibyl  learn  to  paddle  ? " 

"  No.  When  we  came  in  she  asked  me  if  she  had 
done  well.  I  said  yes.  Is  not  that  droll,  Owen? 
She  had  not  touched  a  paddle.  We  were  out  two 
hours.  I  merely  showed  her  how  to  paddle." 

"  Two  hours  ? " 

"Yes." 

As  I  went  in  reflective,  I  heard  St.  Clair  call.  I 
turned  back. 

"  Owen,  will  Miss  May  wood  ever  be  well— and— 
and  strong  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  I  never  asked  before,  but  she  is  so  frail  and  so 
dependent  that  one  naturally— well,  you  understand." 

Victor  rarely  lacked  for  words.  I  said  yes,  of  course 
we  all  felt  as  he  did. 

I  was  perplexed  by  her  account  and  his,  and  inclined 
to  think  there  might  be  less  occult  and  more  obvious 
reasons  for  the  weakness  which  I  had  attributed  in 
part  to  mysterious  causes. 

The  weeks  ran  away,  and  I  still  believed  I  saw  the 
influence  of  St.  Glair's  presence  on  Sibyl.  Again  I 


456  DR.   NOKTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

talked  to  my  wife  about  it,  and  although  she  still 
doubted  my  explanation,  she  saw  very  plainly  that 
without  apparent  cause  Sibyl  was  failing.  I  began  to 
feel  that  some  prolonged  separation  was  needed,  and 
at  last  said  to  Clayborne  that  I  thought  he  must  take 
his  cousin  to  Europe  and  let  her  have  the  benefit  of 
the  Schwalbach  Spa.  I  also  did  venture  to  say,  what 
was  true,  that  she  was  keenly  inquisitive,  actively  in 
tellectual,  and  was  and  had  been  in  a  society  too 
stimulating  to  be  borne  by  one  who  was  mentally 
eager  and  physically  feeble.  When  I  said  that  our 
talk  left  her  exhausted,  I  saw  by  Clayborne's  look 
of  astonishment  that  I  had  been  wise  to  go  no 
further.  It  would  indeed  have  been  useless  to  have 
stated  to  Clayborne  my  suspicion  that  what  I  called 
to  myself  latent  affection  and  also  influences  more 
mysterious  had  a  share  in  making  mischief.  Of  love- 
affairs  the  scholar  knew  little,  and  as  to  the  rest,  he 
would  have  smiled  at  an  opinion  so  incapable  of  proof. 
The  physician  is  credited  with  want  of  faith  in  things 
spiritual.  The  charge  is  common  and  has  classical 
support,  and  yet  of  all  people  he  is  the  one  most  often 
called  upon  to  think  and  act  with  decision  in  cases 
where  action  must  rest  on  incomplete  knowledge.  He 
moves  amid  mystery.  If  he  does  not  intellectually 
respect  the  complex  riddles  of  soul,  mind,  and  body, 
and  their  interdependence,  he  is  unfit  for  the  higher 
seats  in  the  temple  of  the  god  of  medicine.  When  I 
supposed  that  the  mere  presence  of  St.  Clair  was  hurt 
ful  to  Sibyl,  I  was  face  to  face  with  what  was  to  me  a 
fact.  We  all  tired  her  of  late,  but  this  other  influence 
was  more  mischievous.  I  could  not  prove  it  j  but  every 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  457 

day  I  was  acting  on  beliefs  which  no  man  could  en 
tirely  justify  by  proof.  I  must  put  my  conclusion  on 
ground  where  Clayborne  and  others  could  stand  with 
me.  This  is  a  common  experience  with  the  best  of 
my  guild.  It  is  the  power  to  reason  from  uncertain 
premises  to  conclusions  as  often  unsure  that  makes 
the  best  physician.  He  practises  an  art  not  yet  a 
science.  It  is  based  on  many  sciences.  A  man  may 
know  them  all  and  be  a  less  skilful  healer  than  one 
who,  knowing  them  less  well,  is  master  of  the  art  to 
which  they  increasingly  contribute. 

Clayborne  was  much  alarmed  when  I  thus  reopened 
the  matter  of  Sibyl's  health,  and  at  once  declared  him 
self  willing  and  ready  to  go  in  September.  It  was 
now  August.  The  summer  had  been  most  fortunate. 
I  had  finished  my  book ;  Clayborne  had  nearly  com 
pleted  his  own  task;  all  had  gone  well  with  us. 
Except  as  to  Sibyl,  I  had  no  care ;  and,  as  Vincent  re 
marked,  to  complete  our  good  luck  the  great  Xerxes 
had  stayed  away.  Fate,  which  had  dealt  kindly  with 
us,  was  about  to  give  us  a  taste  of  the  perverse  pos 
sibilities  of  life. 

One  fine  day  in  mid- August  we  arranged  for  a  pic 
nic  on  Otter  Creek.  Every  one  went  except  Mary, 
who,  to  her  disgust,  was  left  behind,  but  was  told 
that  she  might  fish  from  the  rocks  in  the  afternoon. 
With  a  final  caution  to  the  nurse  from  my  wife,  we 
drove  away  in  our  buckboard  wagon.  Five  miles  of 
very  bad  road  brought  us  at  noon  to  where  the  Otter 
Creek,  now  in  full  flow  from  recent  rain,  crossed 
the  road.  A  walk  of  half  a  mile  took  us  along  the 
stream,  among  gigantic  masses  of  tumbled  granite. 


458  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

We  settled  down  at  last  by  a  clear  pool.  Here 
Clayborne,  Vincent,  and  my  wife  left  us  to  climb  the 
hill,  that  Clayborne  might  revisit  the  glacier  pot-holes. 
The  servant  busied  himself  with  the  lunch,  put  the 
wine  to  cool  in  the  brook,  and  St.  Clair  wandered  off 
through  the  woods.  I  sat  down  to  keep  Sibyl  com 
pany,  together  with  Mrs.  Vincent  and  Dr.  Afton.  We 
were  silent  awhile,  and  then  Mrs.  Vincent  said:  "  We 
seem  not  to  be  in  the  mood  for  talk.  I  am  not.  Tell 
us  a  story,  Dr.  Afton.  I  am  like  a  child  about  stories. 
I  should  always  prefer  to  hear  rather  than  to  read 
them." 

Afton  said :  "  Wait  a  little,  Mrs.  Vincent ;  I  must 
search  that  index  called  memory."  After  a  little  he 
said :  "  My  puppets  are  off  somewhere  on  a  holiday. 
I  am  storyless.  Now,  if  Mary  were  asking  me  with 
those  seeking  eyes,  I  should  find  them  a  tale  at  once. 
I  not  only  like  to  tell  stories  to  children,  but  I  delight 
in  stories  about  children.  When  my  new  book  appears 
you  will  see  what  a  diligent  collector  I  have  been." 

"What  will  you  call  your  book? "  asked  Sibyl. 

"  '  The  Wit  and  Wisdom  of  Childhood/  "  he  replied. 
"  And  will  not  you  contribute,  Mrs.  Vincent  ? " 

"  I  think  not,"  she  returned. 

"  Oh,  but  I  will  tell  you  a  story,"  cried  Sibyl ;  "  and 
such  a  pretty  story,  oh,  a  mere  bit  of  a  story  !  I  heard 

Mrs.  K tell  it  to  Mr.  Clayborne.  Once  she  was  at 

L in  the  Berkshire  Hills,  and  went  with  the 

S s  to  see  a  model  village  school.  The  teacher, 

very  proud  of  it,  said :  '  Now,  children,  we  shall  have 
silence.  While  no  one  speaks  you  must  think,  and 
some  one  of  you  shall  tell  me  what  his  thoughts  are.' 


DR.   NORTH   AND   HIS  FRIENDS  459 

There  was  quiet  for  a  while,  the  teacher  explaining, 
in  an  aside,  that  this  plan  led  to  introspective  origi 
nality.  Suddenly  a  small  boy  rose,  lifted  his  hand,  and 
said,  '  Please,  ma'am.7 

"'Well?' 

" l  Please,  ma'am,  may  I  kiss  the  new  girl?M 

"  How  pretty !  "  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  It  sounds  a 
bit  like  Concord  and  that  amazing  man  Alcott,  who 

had  a  school  at  G for  a  time.  He  began  school, 

one  day,  by  opening  a  blue  cotton  umbrella  over  his 
head,  and  asking  the  children  what  idea  it  suggested." 

"  What  answer  did  he  get  ? "  said  Afton. 

"  Ah,  that  I  do  not  know.  One  does  want  to  hear 
what  came  after,  and,  indeed,  what  came  after  the 
famous  retorts,  the  memorable  bons  mots." 

"Nothing  comes,"  said  Afton,  "except  laugh  or 
wrath." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  not,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  "  I  envy 
the  ready  people.  I  am  never  ready." 

Sibyl  laughed.  "  Oh,  Mrs.  Vincent !  "  Few  were 
more  apt  at  the  quick  rapier  play  of  talk. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  she.  "  I  look  before  and  after, 
and  pine  and  pine  for  what  is  not.  I  know  next  day 
what  I  should  have  said.  What  is  that  Spanish 
proverb  St.  Clair  quotes  ?  The  French  saying  is  bet 
ter,  but  every  one  knows  that." 

"Yes,  yes,"  cried  Sibyl;    "this  is  it: 

'T  is  only  fools  who  borrow 
Their  answers  from  to-morrow." 

"  That  is  not  bad,"  said  Afton ;  "  but  I  should  put 
1  the  wise '  for  l  fools.'  Silence  is  often  a  fine  epigram." 


460  DR.    NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"I  must  tell  Fred  that/'  laughed  Mrs.  Vincent. 
"  When,  last  year,  we  were  talking  of  this  matter,  Mr. 
Clayborne  quoted— I  think  it  ran  this  way: 

If  to  be  silent  is  to  be  wise, 

Then  hath  death  the  best  replies." 

"That  is  quaintly  unsatisfactory,"  said  Aftonj 
"  but  you  have  it  wrong.  Pardon  me : 

If  the  best  wisdom  doth  in  silence  lie, 
How  wise  is  death,  that  maketh  no  reply !  " 

"  Death  is  a  grim  question,"  said  Sibyl. 

Af ton  looked  at  her  gravely. 

"  That  reminds  me,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  of  what 
my  husband  said  the  other  day,  after  we  had  talked 
of  men  who  wrote  verse  when  about  to  die.  He  said 
something  as  to  the  way  in  which  humor  showed 
itself  even  in  the  last  hours  of  life.  Have  you,  Dr. 
Afton,  ever  seen  that?" 

"No,  never." 

Then  I  said:  "I  have;  but  if  it  be  to  the  sayer 
always  what  it  seems  to  the  hearer,  I  do  not  know. 
In  fact,  I  have  seen  it  often.  I  once  attended  a 
circus  clown  who  was  dying.  A  Methodist  clergy 
man  present  said  to  him,  'My  friend,  you  are  very 
ill.  You  have  led  a  bad  life'— which  was  too 
true.  '  Think  of  yourself.'  The  poor  fellow  had 
been  worrying  about  his  children.  i  What  will  you 
say  to  your  Maker  when  he  asks  you  of  your  life  ? ' 

" 1 1  guess  I  '11  say,  "  What  can  I  do  for  you  next, 
Master  Ringmaster?"  Guess  he  '11  know  a  circus 
ain't  a  church.'" 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  461 

"  Is  that  really  true  ?  "  asked  Sibyl. 

I  said :  "  Yes ;  and  so  is  this.  A  man  dying  on  the 
field  of  Gettysburg  asked  me  where  he  was  hit.  I 
said,  '  In  the  liver.'  To  which  the  volunteer  replied : 
1 1  might  have  known  that.  I  always  did  have  trou 
ble  with  my  liver.' " 

"  Was  that  humor  ?  I  suppose  not,"  said  Mrs.  Vin 
cent  ;  "  but  how  to  classify  it  ?  Was  it  simply  humor  ? 
Was  it,  for  the  man,  a  mere  statement  of  a  fact  ?  Was 
it  self -felt,  intentional  humor?  My  husband  tells  a 

charming  story  of  the  famous  lawyer  Mr.  M .  He 

was  slowly  dying  day  by  day,  and  well  aware  of  it. 
His  doctor  said,  '  Did  you  take  the  pill  ? '  '  Pill ! '  said 
the  sick  man.  l  My  daughter  gave  me  two.'  '  A 
harmless  mistake,'  said  the  doctor.  'Well/  said 
M ,  'it  is  only  another  example  of  female  dupli 
city.'  The  next  day  the  doctor  chanced  to  see  on  the 
mantel-shelf  a  bottle  of  German  spa  water  with  some 
unpronounceable  name.  'For  whom  is  that,  Mr. 

M ? '  he  asked.  l  Oh,  Mrs.  C sent  it  to  my 

daughter.  She  takes  it.'  l  But  why  ? '  said  the  doc 
tor.  l  Oh,  to  improve  her  German  accent,  I  suppose.' 
'  Her  German  accent  ? '  t  Yes ;  the  taste  is  so  damnably 
pronounced.' " 

"  That  is  quite  perfect,"  said  Dr.  Afton. 

"  I  forgot  that  you  were  the  physician,  Dr.  North," 
said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"Yes,  and  it  was  like  the  man.  He  was  full  of 
those  queer  verbal  surprises." 

Then  said  Sibyl :  "How  curious  to  be  talking  human 
wit  in  this  wild  woodland !  How  little  it  suggests 
that !  " 


462  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  How  little  !  "  I  said.  "As  little  as  the  approach  of 
death  would  seem  to  suggest  or  permit  the  mere  play 
upon  words.  Ah,  here  is  Mr.  St.  Clair  !  And  what  have 
you  seen  in  the  woods  ?  We  are  talking  bons  mots." 

"  I  have  been  better  employed.     I  saw  a  wildcat." 

"  Oh  !  n  exclaimed  Sibyl,  looking  about  her. 

"  I  watched  him  long.     He  had  glorious  eyes." 

"  Did  he  come  after  you  ? " 

"No;  we  interviewed  each  other  ten  feet  apart. 
I  know  what  he  thought." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  St.  Clair,  what  was  it?" 

"  I  neither  print  nor  relate  my  interviews,  Miss 
Maywood.  I  am  not  of  the  tribe  who  do.  He  was 
a  gentleman.  He  followed  me  a  little  way.  Then  I 
said  I  was  otherwise  engaged,  and  he  left  me." 

"  I  trust  he  did  not  find  Fred,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent, 
smiling.  "  Ah,  here  they  are  !  "  And  so  presently  we 
were  gaily  lunching. 

After  luncheon  I  said  I  would  leave  them  and 
walk  home,  as  I  had  some  proof  to  read  and  send 
away.  I  left  St.  Clair  puzzling  Clayborne  over  a 
novel  theory  of  glaciers,  invented  on  the  spot. 

The  road  was  lonely.  Here  and  there  it  dropped 
into  deep  valleys,  with  small  regard  to  the  con 
venience  of  man  or  horse.  Glad  of  my  lonely  walk, 
I  went  on  amid  a  moldering  company  of  red-oaks 
and  vast  pines  left  to  rot  at  ancient  ease.  All 
around  were  the  young  generation  of  trees.  Off  the 
road  to  the  right  was  a  hillside  of  rocks  in  rough 
cubes,  like  huge  dice  tumbled  from  the  summit  of  the 
mountain.  The  desire  to  struggle  up  this  gray  and 
not  attractive  rubbish  came  upon  me.  I  stood  awhile 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  463 

to  see  how  best  to  do  it,  and  then  went  on.  A  little 
farther  the  road  dipped  nearly  to  the  level  of  a  bog, 
meant  to  be  a  lake,  but  fallen  to  the  low  estate  of 
a  morass  fertile  in  due  season,  a  mass  of  unattain 
able  lilies  and  somber  cattails.  Here  again  I  made 
a  halt,  and  saw  how  the  maples,  which  love  water 
fringes,  were  predictively  suggesting  the  scarlet  and 
gold  of  autumn.  Then  I  wandered  off  the  road  and 
around  the  marsh.  Strongly  set  in  some  natures  is 
the  desire  to  go  where  one  cannot,  or  to  win  the  un- 
attained,  or  to  get  the  useless  and  difficult.  I  stood 
thinking  why  the  deadly  peril  of  this  marsh  tempted 
me.  I  tried  it  for  the  lilies'  sake,  and  went  back  to 
the  road,  convinced  by  wet  feet.  I  fell  to  thinking, 
and  of  all  things  away  and  apart  from  the  place  I 
reflected  over  a  therapeutic  problem  which  had  often 
puzzled  me.  For  me  to  walk  greatly  prospers  thought. 
It  was  so  now.  I  found  what  I  wanted;  but  with 
me  such  conclusions  stray  easily  from  my  memory ;  I 
must  insure  their  lives  by  instant  record.  I  rose  well 
pleased.  Then  I  was  aware  of  St.  Clair  coming  swiftly 
through  the  wood  and  hailing  me. 

Seeing  my  muddy  foot-wear  and  the  bunch  of  brown 
cattails  with  which  I  was  fain  to  be  content,  he  said : 
"  In  England  they  call  those  things  reed-mice.  I  am 
glad  you  got  no  lilies.  I  was  ashamed  to  tell  Mrs.  North 
what  Ruskin  says  of  folks  who  plunder  gardens  or  raid 
the  woods  for  wildings :  l  Luxurious  and  disorderly 
people  rejoice  in  them  gathered.' " 

"  What  stuff !  A  good  rose  lasts  as  long  in  a  glass 
on  my  table  as  in  a  garden.  I  like  to  see  it  unfold  to 
matronly  maturity.  I  like  to  see  the  change  as  its  red 


464  DE.   NORTH  AND   HIS  FRIENDS 

shadows  darken.  I  like  to  see  it  let  fall  its  leaves  on 
my  table,  over  the  books." 

St.  Clair  had  a  pretty  charm  as  a  listener,  and  an 
air  of  gentle  attention  which  at  times  was  very  tak 
ing.  He  was  interested,  and  forgot  his  critic  mood. 

"  Ah,  if  the  decay  of  life  were  beautiful !  " 

"  And,"  I  said,  "  you,  a  poet,  do  not  see  that  some 
lives  are  truly  like  this."  He  sat  beside  me,  silent.  I 
turned  to  look  at  him.  "  Well I "  I  said,  interrogatively. 

"Nothing,"  he  said,  "nothing." 

His  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  I  stood  up.  "  And  so 
you,  too,  ran  away,"  I  added. 

"Yes,  I  deserted.  I  wanted  to  get  home  early.  I 
have  to  finish  a  sketch  I  began  yesterday.  The 
weather  and  light  are  much  the  same  as  they  were 
when  I  began  it.  Besides,  Clayborne  was  lecturing 
on  the  ethics  of  history.  In  a  forest  like  that !  Con 
ceive  of  it,  Owen.  I  told  him  he  should  make  it  a 
chapter  of  his  book  on  humor.  Do  you  know,  dear 
old  fellow — to  speak  English  as  she  is  spoke — railly 
— that 's  any  amount  more  critically  expressive  than 
'really'— railly,  he  asked  me,  'Why?7  Oh,  he  is  as 
simple  sometimes  as  a  lumbering  old  box-turtle. 
Mrs.  Vincent  shook  her  head  at  me.  Miss  Sibyl 
looked  cross  and  then  puzzled.  I  left.  The  way  those 
women  spoil  him  !  " 

"What  did  he  mean  by  the  ethics  of  history?" 
asked  I. 

"You  are  inconsiderate  even  to  ask  the  question. 
I  came  away  disgusted.  Here  comes  nature,  sets  her 
scene  with  a  perfect  day,  leads  you  into  the  woods, 
gives  you  a  brook  for  chorus;  and  a  man  knocks 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  465 

out  all  the  poetry  with  an  essay  on— what  was  it? 
Thank  Heaven,  I  have  forgotten  it !  Don't  tell  me, 
please.  Oh,  ethics  of  history !  And  the  dear  people 
jibed  me  about  the  wildcat." 

"  You  saw  one,  Victor  ?  " 

"  I  did.  I  was  like  a  child,  afraid  to  tell  all.  No 
one  ever  believes  me.  I  will  tell  you." 

"  Please  do." 

"  When  I  saw  that  cat  I  got  on  my  hands  and 
knees  and  crawled  toward  him.  Also  he  crawled. 
When  I  got  within  two  feet  of  him  he  began- to  wink. 
Then  I  knew  he  was  afraid.  Oh,  what  golden  eyes ! 
Then  I  put  out  a  paw  and  smoothed  his  fur.  After 
that  he  lay  on  my  lap,  and  we  talked." 

I  had  not  the  least  doubt  as  to  the  truth  of  what 
he  now  told  me. 

"  Did  you  hypnotize  him  ? "  I  asked. 

"  No.  Perhaps.  How  can  I  tell  ?  I  have  no  fear 
of  wild  things.  I  never  tried  a  lion.  If  Xerxes 
were  really  a  beast  through  and  through  I  could 
tame  him." 

"  That  is  the  worst  of  this  world,"  I  said.  "  Men 
are  losing  their  instincts,  and  not  getting  brains  fast 
enough  to  supply  the  loss  of  animal  talents." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  Xerxes  in  a  menagerie. 
He  does  look  like  a  bear,  and  he  has  not  one  com 
plete  beastly  quality." 

"  Well,  he  is  being  tamed,  Victor." 

"Yes;  he  will  become  uninteresting,  like  all  tame 
things.  His  yacht  came  in  to-day.  Fred  will  be 
pleased." 

"Will  he  not?     His  capability  of  being  seriously 


466  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

annoyed  by  a  man  like  Crofter  is  strange  to  me. 
You  would  have  been  amused  at  that  visit.  Vincent 
was  quiet,  dignified,  and,  as  usual,  tranquilly  well- 
mannered.  You  know  his  manners  have  no  accent. 
I  wished  you  had  been  with  us.  To  us  who  know 
Vincent  well  it  was  a  delightful  encounter.  The 
gentle,  scarce  obvious  self-restraint  was  clear  to  see. 
It  was  lost  on  Xerxes,  not  on  us." 

"  The  scamp !  Ah,  if  he  only  knew,  as  I  do  in  my 
small  way,  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  that,  if  not 
yourself  good,  you  are  the  cause  of  good  in  others ! 
What  with  Xerxes  and  Clayborne,  I  have  lost  half 
a  day.  I  came  out  of  the  wood  with  my  head  full  of 
verses  about  my  gold-eyed  cat,  and  there  were  the 
ethics  of  history,  and  now  you  and  Xerxes." 

"  How  delightful,"  I  said,  "  to  have  the  crude  stuff 
of  poetry  in  your  mind  and  to  watch  it  take  shape ! 
Does  it  grow  like  a  child?  How  do  fellows  make 
poetry  ?  The  embryology  of  a  poem  has  always  been 
to  me  more  of  a  mystery  than  any  other  mental 
process." 

We  were  now  seated  on  the  roadside,  the  sketch 
forgotten. 

"We  once  before  discussed  it,  Owen.  If  one  had 
all  the  copies  of  one  great  poem  from  the  initial 
thought  to  the  final  verbal  touches  we  should  know 
more  about  it.  After  a  poem  is  born  it  has  to  be 
educated.  All  verse  worth  writing  at  all  costs  labor, 
in  some  cases  very  great  labor.  Its  primary  con 
ception  and  birth  must  always  remain  mysterious. 
But  of  this  be  sure,  Owen,  that,  as  with  a  foreign 
tongue,  one  must  think  in  it,  so  with  poetry :  if  a 


DR.   NORTH  AND   HIS  FRIENDS  467 

man  does  not  think  in  rhythms  he  is  not  a  poet.  And 
if  he  be  ever  so  much  of  one  he  is  little  wanted  now 
adays.  Fellows  write  to  me  and  send  verse.  *  Will  I 
kindly  criticize  and  return?7  I  write—'7 

"  You  do  really  answer?" 

"  Yes.  I  write  :  '  Do  you  think  in  rhythms  ?  If 
not,  you  had  better  retire  from  that  business  j  no  one 
wants  it  now,  bad  or  good.'  Fools  like  me  will  go  on 
scribbling  verse.  The  love  of  verse  is  lost  out  of  the 
life  of  the  time.  It  never  was  in  our  life  as  it  was 
in  Elizabeth's  day.  Imagine  the  President  or  our 
English  ambassador  winding  up  a  state  paper  with  a 
sonnet." 

"  Who  ever  did,  Victor  ? " 

"  Some  one  j  I  forget  his  name.  But  come  along, 
Owen,  or  I  shall  lose  my  evening  light." 

By  five  o'clock  I  was  at  my  own  door.  Mary  was 
on  the  rocks,  deluding  small  flounders.  I  saw  St. 
Clair  hurrying  through  the  orchard  to  the  eastern 
side  of  the  projecting  promontory  which  here  divided 
the  beach.  Pleased  to  have  a  tranquil  afternoon  for 
revision  of  my  book,  I  went  up  to  my  study.  My 
wife  by  no  means  allowed  afternoon  work,  but  that 
lady  was  in  the  woods  listening  to  the  ethics  of  his 
tory.  I  pulled  my  table  to  the  window  and  began  to 
read  my  manuscript.  Below  me  the  old  apple-trees 
gave  glimpses  through  their  gnarled  limbs  of  the  sun 
lit  sward.  Standing  out  to  the  north  and  breaking 
the  beach-line  rose  a  short  headland,  rocky  and  bare, 
and  not  over  twenty  feet  high.  Below  it  on  one  side 
was  a  level  ledge  of  rock  some  six  feet  wide.  Here, 
above  the  sea,  which  was  breaking  on  the  rocks,  I 


468  DR.  NORTH   AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

caught  sight  at  times  of  my  little  maid's  yellow  locks 
and  of  the  woman  in  charge  sitting  near  by.  St. 
Glair  was  on  a  lower  ledge  to  the  southeast,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  headland.  Presently,  as  an  apple- 
tree  swayed  in  the  wind,  I  saw  on  the  summit  of  the 
rock  a  bulky  figure.  To  see  better  I  moved  to  the 
next  window,  and,  as  it  was  quite  four  hundred  feet 
away,  caught  up  a  field- glass  to  make  sure.  It  was 
Xerxes.  St.  Clair  had  approached  the  rocks  from  the 
farther  side.  I  could  not  see  him,  but  I  knew  ex 
actly  where  he  was  sitting,  and  that  he  must  be  un 
aware  of  the  fact  that  Xerxes  could  look  critically 
down  on  him  and  his  work. 

With  this  comical  situation  in  full  view  I  gave 
up  my  book  and  went  out  on  to  the  upper  porch. 
Here  at  the  western  end  T  could  see  better  all 
concerned,  or  unconcerned,  except  St.  Clair.  Mary 
was  the  most  patient  of  fishers,  because  if  the  fish 
were  on  her  hook  or  not  seemed  of  no  moment. 
She  went  on  intently  fishing  and  making  no  noise. 
Mr.  Crofter,  ignorant  of  being  spied  upon  by  me, 
enjoyed  the  situation.  I  could  see  him  smile.  He 
was  of  no  mind  to  disturb  the  fisher  or  the  painter, 
upon  whom  in  turn  he  looked  down.  I  could  see  his 
liberal  grin  as  he  inspected  St.  Clair  from  this  van 
tage.  Then  he  turned  and  watched  Mary.  She  stood 
or  sat  on  the  ledge  of  rock,  and  now  and  then  freely 
refreshed  her  bait  with  lavish  addition  of  clams  as 
the  bare  hook  came  up  after  having  regaled  the  much- 
comforted  fish,  who  were  the  supes  in  my  little  drama. 
Suddenly  Crofter  had  a  mind  to  smoke.  He  gave 
it  up  either  because,  again,  of  absence  of  matches 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  469 

or  because  he  was  unwilling  to  risk  the  betrayal  of 
a  situation  which  he  evidently  enjoyed.  I  laid  down 
my  glass,  and  having  no  such  fear  of  consequences,  I 
lit  a  pipe.  A  little  later  I  went  in  and  got  a  stronger 
glass ;  then  I  sat  down  to  enjoy  this  comedy. 

I  cannot  quite  disentangle  what  next  I  saw  from 
what  I  afterward  heard.  The  little  maid  was  quick 
of  ear.  Hearing  something,  she  jumped  up,  and  sud 
denly  was  aware  of  her  friendly  bear  overhead.  I 
heard  a  cry  of  warning  from  the  nurse.  Mary  backed 
a  little,  the  better  to  see  Crofter.  She  cried  out,  "  Oh, 
Bear,  Bear,  come  down  and  fish !  "  and  put  her  foot  be 
hind  her  where  no  rock  was.  She  fell  backward  into 
the  sea,  and  in  an  instant  was  twenty  feet  away.  Be 
fore  I  could  throw  a  leg  over  the  rail  of  the  porch  I 
saw  Crofter  jump  down  some  ten  feet  on  to  the  ledge 
below.  As  he  alighted  he  slipped  and  fell  heavily. 
He  rose  at  once  and  threw  himself  into  the  sea.  For 
the  time  I  saw  no  more.  I  dropped  on  to  the  grass 
below  me  and  ran  down  through  the  trees.  I  saw 
Crofter,  a  rod  or  so  out,  trying  to  reach  the  sand-beach. 
He  held  the  child  clear  of  the  water,  and  seemed  to 
me  to  be  in  some  way  disabled.  St.  Clair,  a  wonder 
ful  swimmer,  was  helping  him  toward  the  strand. 

"  All  right,"  he  cried,  laughing,  as  he  caught  sight 
of  me.  "  A  hand,  quick,  Owen." 

I  ran  down  the  beach,  and  wading  into  the  sea, 
caught  up  the  child  ;  then  I  offered  a  hand  to  Crofter. 
"Can't,"  he  said;  "something  >s  broke." 

In  a  moment  both  men  were  ashore.  The  infant 
cause  of  this  scene  was  crying  lustily  and  very  wet  j  the 
nurse  was  making  a  noise  larger  in  proportion  to  her 

31 


470  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

size.  St.  Clair  was  laughing  and  shaking  the  water  from 
his  coat,  like  a  wet  dog.  Xerxes  was  standing  still, 
looking  at  the  maid,  and  saying  at  intervals,  "  Damn 
it,  don't  cry."  He  had  a  cut  over  his  left  eye,  and  his 
right  arm  hung  helpless.  To  add  to  the  dramatic 
effect,  my  wife  was  running  down  through  the  or 
chard.  Vincent,  far  behind  her,  was  tranquilly  talk 
ing  with  Afton,  not  yet  having  seen  or  guessed  our 
nearness  to  a  tragedy.  There  were  scant  words  of  quick 
explanation.  My  wife  seized  the  scared  child  and  ran 
with  her  to  our  house,  declaring  that  I  ought  to  be 
ashamed,  and  that  she  would  never  leave  her  again, 
and  where,  indeed,  had  I  been  ?  Mrs.  Vincent  went 
with  her,  too  wise  to  try  to  set  her  right  at  the  wrong 
moment,  but,  as  usual,  silently  efficient.  Miss  Mary 
was  put  to  bed,  and  leaving  the  mother,  Mrs.  Vincent 
went  over  to  her  own  home  to  ask  questions.  Fred, 
coming  out,  met  her. 

"You  cannot  go  in  yet,  Anne,"  he  said.  "Yes,  it 
is  simple.  This  is  all  of  it.  Mr.  Crofter  was  up  on 
the  top  rock  when  Mary  fell  in.  In  place  of  scram 
bling  down,  as  any  sensible  man  would  have  done, 
he  jumped  the  ten  feet,  and  of  course  slipped,  and 
fell  on  the  ledge.  He  put  his  shoulder  out  of  place, 
and  cut  his  stupid  head ;  but  somehow  he  got  into  the 
sea  and  fetched  up  your  godchild,  who  was  in  the 
condition  of  Ophelia  as  to  appetite  for  water.  Then 
St.  Clair,  who  was  in  the  side  scenes  somewhere,  en 
tered,  to  left,  I  believe,  and  he,  too,  went  into  the  sea. 
He  had  all  he  could  do  to  get  the  crippled  bear  and 
Mary  into  shallow  water." 

Anne  Vincent  said  sternly :  "  Fred,  I— never  heard 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  471 

you  so— I  am  ashamed  of  you.  I  see  nothing  amus 
ing  in  it." 

"Nor  I,  you  dear  goose.  Confound  it,  Anne, 
sometimes  a  laugh  is  the  only  escape  from  tears. 
Get  the  blue  room  ready.  Mr.  Crofter  must  stay 
here,  I  suppose." 

"  Of  course ;  where  else  should  he  stay  ?  A  year, 
if  he  will/' 

Vincent  reentered  the  room  to  aid  me  in  the  easy 
task  of  replacing  a  simple  dislocation  of  the  shoulder. 
It  was  brief  in  the  doing,  but  painful.  Xerxes  bore 
it  well.  Then  I  sent  Vincent  to  my  own  house  to  get 
the  needed  dressings  for  the  cut  on  Crofter's  forehead. 
At  last,  his  arm  in  a  sling  and  his  head  neatly  ban 
daged,  I  left  him  that  I  might  take  a  look  at  my 
child.  While  he  was  being  put  to  rights  he  scarcely 
let  fall  a  word,  except  to  say,  "  Is  that  all  right  ? " 
or,  "  Don't  be  afraid  to  hurt  me." 

On  my  way  I  met  Clayborne  and  Sibyl,  who  had 
lingered  in  the  village  and  walked  home.  They  were 
the  last  to  hear  of  our  disaster.  Sibyl  turned  pale 
and  went  hastily  toward  my  house.  Clayborne  asked 
me  if  he  could  be  of  any  service.  When  I  said  no, 
and  that  everything  had  been  done  that  could  be 
done,  he  went  in  silence  to  his  own  room. 

I  found  the  little  maid  quite  recovered  from  her 
fright  and  disposed  to  turn  the  matter  to  good  ac 
count,  realizing  her  recent  increment  of  importance. 
"  Might  she  have  two  cakes  for  tea,  and  was  the 
bear  very  wet  1 " 

As  soon  as  I  had  left  Crofter  he  said  to  Vincent : 
"Is  the  kid  all  right?" 


472  DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Vincent.  "  There  is  no  cause  for 
alarm.  But  you  are  not  to  talk.  You  have  had  a 
bad  fall."  Vincent  was  in  a  condition  of  mind  for 
which  no  previous  experience  could  have  prepared 
him.  He  himself  did  not  want  to  talk,  but  the  big 
man  was  not  easily  kept  quiet.  As  he  lay  on  the 
lounge  he  regarded  Vincent  with  a  succession  of 
serene  smiles.  At  last  he  said : 

"  You  ;re  awfully  fond  of  the  kid." 

"  I—     Yes?  of  course." 

"You  've  got  to  like  me,  Mr.  Vincent.  Fate  ?s  a 
right  tricky  bronco.  I  guess  she  has  bucked  you 
bad." 

"  I  rather  think  she  has,"  he  said  frankly.  "  I  am 
eternally  in  your  debt,  Mr.  Crofter." 

"Receipt  in  full,"  said  Xerxes.  "Where  7s  that 
Indian,  Saint  Clair  ?  He  's  on  top  this  time.  Between 
us,  Mr.  Vincent,  that  beach  was  miles  off  when  he 
got  hold  of  me.  I  was  swimming  sort  of  crab  style, 
sideways,  a  bit  dazed,  I  guess,  head  turning  round. 
Could  n't  I  see  that  young  scalp-hunter  ? " 

St.  Clair,  satisfied  as  to  Mary,  had  promptly  dis 
appeared.  Vincent,  pleased  at  so  good  an  excuse  to 
escape,  said :  "  I  will  find  him,  but  you  are  to  keep 
quiet.  Mrs.  Vincent  will  have  a  room  ready  at  once. 
The  child's  mother  will  want  to  see  you  in  a  few 
minutes." 

"All  right,"  said  Xerxes.  "You  find  me  the 
young  man.  I  want  to  thank  him.  I  want  to  get 
it  over.  I  hate  thanking  people.  So  do  you,  I 
guess." 

Vincent  winced.     It  was  true.      He  had  a  well- 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  473 

marked  dislike  to  being  thanked.  Now,  relieved,  he 
went  out  to  look  for  St.  Clair.  Not  finding  him,  he 
found  himself  obliged  to  come  back.  Then  he  dis 
covered,  as  I  had  also  done,  that  Xerxes  Crofter  had 
departed.  We  learned  later  that  on  the  road  he  met 
what  folks  at  Bar  Harbor  call  a  "  cut-under,"  was 
driven  swiftly  to  the  village,  went  on  board  the  Night 
Hawk,  and  was  away  in  an  hour,  with  all  sail  set. 
When  we  missed  him  my  wife  declared  war  on  all 
the  male  sex.  We  might  have  known  what  he  would 
do.  Plainly,  Mr.  Crofter  was  unwilling  to  face  the 
gratitude  of  a  mother.  She  supposed  we  had  never 
said  a  word  to  him  of  our  boundless  debt,  and  now 
just  to  patch  up  the  poor  fellow  and  let  him  go  !  We 
explained  in  vain.  As  to  Vincent,  he  was  slightly 
ashamed  at  his  satisfaction  in  Xerxes's  flight.  "  No 
one  could  have  known  he  would  go,"  I  said.  Mrs. 
Vincent  said  his  flight  showed  remarkable  delicacy  of 
sentiment.  He  did  not  want  to  be  thanked.  But,  really, 
we  could  not  let  him  go  in  this  abrupt  way.  I  said  the 
abruptness  was  his,  not  ours.  My  wife  considered 
me  with  grave  severity. 

"You  must  find  him,  Fred,"  said  Anne  Vincent. 

"  And  you,  too,"  said  my  wife.  "  Where  is  Mr. 
St.  Clair?" 

No  one  could  say.  Clearly,  it  was  not  a  male 
day,  and  we  knew  it.  We  passively  obeyed.  It  was 
too  late.  Crofter  had  gone  when  we  reached  the 
village. 

At  dinner  we  assembled  as  usual  ;  for  we  dined 
together  on  alternate  days,  and  now  it  was  at  the 
Vincents'  house.  Sibyl,  my  wife  said,  had  gone  to 


474  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

bed  much  overcome  and,  as  I  knew,  a  little  hys 
terical.  Clayborne  had  learned  of  Crofter's  disap 
pearance.  The  new  situation  in  regard  to  Crofter 
did  not  call  for  prolonged  discussion,  but  we  all 
knew  that  we  had  contracted  a  heavy  debt.  Vin 
cent  was  indisposed  to  talk.  When  I  said  I  would 
write  to  Crofter,  to  my  surprise  Clayborne  said  that 
he  had  already  written,  and  had  sent  his  letter  to  the 
village  to  catch  the  Portland  mail.  He  had  heard 
that  the  yacht  would  put  in  there.  Upon  this  my 
wife  said  Clayborne  was  an  angel,  and  informed  me 
with  decisiveness  that  I  should  have  shown  similar 
good  sense.  When  I  said  I  would  write  as  soon  as 
dinner  was  over,  Alice  said :  "  I  must  see  your  letter, 
Owen,  and  I  shall  write  one  myself." 

St.  Clair  was  silent,  until  at  dessert  he  got  up, 
exclaiming,  "  By  George,  it  is  maddening !  Here  is 
Xerxes  my  friend  for  life.  I  shall  have  to  apologize 
and  make  more  busts,  and,  great  Scott !  —  '  With  this, 
feeling  that  language  was  useless  or  inadequate,  he 
went  out  and  took  to  his  canoe. 

Next  day,  to  my  surprise,  Sibyl  came  down  to  break 
fast,  which  of  late  was  rare,  and  before  the  meal  was 
over  the  Vincents  and  St.  Clair  came  in  to  ask  news 
of  Mary,  who  was  still  in  bed. 

"  I  am  going  away  to-day,"  said  St.  Clair. 

"  You  are  going  to  New  York/7  said  my  wife. 

"  I  did  not  say  so." 

"No,  you  did  not,  but  that  is  where  you  are 
going.  Here  is  a  letter  which  my  Mary  insisted 
on  dictating.  The  signature  is  her  own.  Please  to 
deliver  it  for  me." 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  475 

"  Oh,  read  it,  do  !  "  said  Mrs.  Vincent.  Whereupon 
we  had  the  letter. 

"  t  DEAR  MR.  BEAR  :  My  mama  says  I  may  thank 
you.  I  did  not  know  bears  could  swim.  I  hope  you 
got  dry  soon.  Come  soon  and  play  bear.  Bears  are 
nice  people.  I  have  to  stay  in  bed.  Are  you  in  bed  ? 
Mama  says  I  must  say  now 

"  1 1  am  yours  truly, 

"  <  MARY.' 

"When,"  added  Mrs.  North,  "I  asked,  <Is  there 
anything  else  you  want  to  have  me  write  ? '  the  dear 
child  said,  '  Please  say,  "  I  prayed  God  to  make  you 
and  me  good  bears." ' 

"You  put  it  in?"  said  I. 

"  I  did,  of  course." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  and  full  eyes. 
Then  St.  Clair  said  :  "  Mary  may  prove  a  good  moral 
missionary  for  the  old  pagan." 

"  Victor !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Vincent,  sternly. 

The  culprit  smiled.  "You  will  see  that  I  am 
right.  Saith  El-Din-Attar :  l  Successful  virtue  natters 
the  soul  of  man.'"  Then  he  added  irascibly:  "It  is 
all  very  well  for  you  people  who  have  never  been  in 
sulted  by  this  amazing  animal.  But  think  of  me. 
I  must  eat  the  pie  of  humility,  and  I  am  going  to  do 
it  now,  at  once ;  but  truly  life  is  very  unsatisfactory. 
A  sorrow's  crown  of  sorrows  is— well,  is  to  be  the 
dog  on  top  and  to  be  muzzled.  Come,  Owen,  let  us 
smoke.  There  is  a  time  for  that,  although  the  sage 
Ecclesiastes  does  not  mention  it." 


476  DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

As  we  rose  Mrs.  Vincent  and  my  wife  assured  him 
that  nothing  justified  the  manner  in  which  he  per 
mitted  himself  to  speak  of  a  man  who  had  saved 
Mary's  life. 

"  It  is  my  final  snarl/'  said  St.  Glair. 

"  Well,"  said  Clayborne,  "  it  does  seem  to  me  that 
Victor  had  some  share  in  the  matter." 

"  As  if  we  did  not  know  that !  "  said  my  wife.  "  I 
think  I  made  that  clear  to  him.  I  can  never,  never 
forget,  never." 

"  Oh,  please  not !  "  cried  St.  Clair.  "  Come,"  he 
added  gloomily,  "  come,  let  us  smoke,  Owen." 

In  the  evening  St.  Clair  left  us,  but  what  he  said 
to  Crofter  I  do  not  know. 

The  next  morning  brought  us  this  characteristic 
letter,  written  on  the  yacht  and  addressed  to  my  wife : 

"  DEAR  MRS.  NORTH  :  You  will  desire  to  know  from 
me  just  what  happened  yesterday ;  and,  luckily,  my 
left  hand  is  in  good  state.  I  can  manage  to  scrawl 
letters  with  it.  I  walked  to  your  farm,  and,  as  no 
one  was  in,  went  to  the  rocks  and  got  on  top.  Miss 
Mary  was  there  already,  fishing.  Later  on  Mr.  Saint 
Clair  arrived  on  the  other  side  of  the  rocks  and 
sat  down  under  a  projecting  ledge.  I  could  see 
his  sketch  and  his  hands,  and,  as  he  was  twenty 
feet  away,  I  watched  him  with  my  glass.  It  is  a 
first-class  sketch.  I  mean  to  have  it;  tell  him  so. 
Between  the  two,  I  had  a  right  good  time.  Then  the 
kid  fell  in,  and  I  jumped  and  fell,  but  I  got  into  the 
water.  The  nurse  howled  most  usefully;  an  engine 
danger-whistle  could  n't  beat  her.  I  was  thrashing 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  477 

round  like  a  lame  duck  when  Mr.  Saint  Clair  caught 
me.  I  held  the  maid,  and  he  held  me.  I  guess  he 
never  did  suspect  he  'd  be  that  affectionate.  We  got 
out,  and  you  know  the  rest.  I  do  suppose  I  have  n't 
often  given  people  large  occasion  to  thank  me.  Come 
to  collect  interest  on  that  debt,  and  I  could  n't  stand 
it,  especially  the  mother.  I  left.  Tell  North  I  am 
all  right.  Got  a  right  nice  little  doctor  on  the  yacht. 
He  always  consults  me  as  to  what  he  shall  do.  Tell 
Miss  Mary  the  bear  sends  his  love  and  seven  nice 
growls.  Mrs.  Crofter  is  on  board  and  desires  me  to 
send  you  her  apologies  for  my  rudeness  in  leaving 
you.  I  do.  XERXES  CROFTER." 

This  odd  letter  was  duly  answered,  but  what  my 
wife  said  I  do  not  know.  Also  other  letters  passed, 
but  neither  was  I  let  to  see  any  of  these. 

Early  in  September  Clayborne  told  us  that,  as  I 
had  advised,  he  was  going  abroad  at  once  with  Sibyl. 
No  sooner  did  St.  Clair  hear  this  than  he  said  he,  too, 
was  going.  He  had  returned  long  before  from  New 
York,  but  declined  gaily  to  relate  his  interview  with 
Crofter ;  and  now  he  said  he  was  going  with  Clay- 
borne.  I  was  too  wise  to  tell  him  why  he  should 
not.  He  knew  the  very  obvious  reasons  against  it, 
and  I  had  no  mind  to  do  more  than  to  repeat  what 
it  did  seem  to  me  any  man  of  sense  and  feeling 
should  have  at  once  decisively  felt.  And  still,  de 
spite  Mrs.  Vincent's  words,  and  what  my  wife  added, 
he  continued  resolute  to  accompany  Clayborne.  It 
was  unlike  him.  He  rarely  resisted  when  we  all 
held  an  opinion  contrary  to  his  own.  At  last  my 


478  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

wife  again  took  the  matter  in  hand.  She  had  agreed 
with  me  that  it  would  be  cruel  and  unwise  to  use  as  a 
motive  the  strange  view  I  held  as  to  his  mere  pres 
ence  being  hurtful  to  Sibyl.  She  said  to  me  at 
the  close  of  a  long  and  anxious  conversation :  "I 
mean  to  talk  to  him  to-morrow."  What  passed  I 
do  not  know,  but  he  told  me  next  day  that  the  only 
true  art  in  a  debased  world  was  that  of  Japan,  and 
that  the  degenerate  artists  of  Italy,  like  Da  Vinci 
and  the  rest,  were  as  mere  groping  children.  He  had 
told  Clayborne  he  could  not  go  with  him.  I  was 
greatly  relieved.  Soon  after  Clayborne  sailed  St. 
Clair  went  to  California.  What  had  my  wife  said 
to  him?  Our  friends  went  away  early  in  Septem 
ber,  leaving  us  somewhat  anxious.  Until  the  day 
he  himself  left,  Victor  was  quiet,  and,  for  him, 
depressed  as  I  had  never  before  seen  him.  Sibyl, 
no  doubt,  felt  keenly  the  separation  from  the  two 
friendly  women  who  had  learned  to  love  her.  She 
said  little,  but,  when  finally  it  was  decided  upon, 
her  eyes  showed  that  she  had  indulged  in  the  com 
fort  of  tears.  Now,  at  the  moment  of  departure, 
as  had  occurred  at  other  times  of  trial,  she  showed 
unexpected  fortitude.  As  I  looked  at  the  face  she 
turned  back  when  they  drove  away,  I  saw  its  pale 
ness,  and  knowing  too  much,  paid  the  sad  penalty 
of  knowledge.  It  was  not,  however,  a  case  for  de 
spair,  and  I  said  so  to  Mrs.  Vincent.  I  was  not 
without  hope— the  gentle  guest  who  lingers  last,  re 
luctant  to  depart. 

We  remained  at  Bar  Harbor  long  after  Clayborne 
and  his  cousin  had  sailed,  and  saw  no  more  of  St. 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  479 

Clair,  who  followed  them  to  New  York  on  his  way 
to  California.  I  recall  our  last  afternoon  on  the 
island.  Vincent  had  been  called  away  on  business. 
For  three  days  a  fierce  east  wind  had  been  blowing. 
The  storm  broke  at  noon.  The  sun  came  out,  and 
we  decided  with  one  voice  to  spend  the  afternoon  at 
Great  Head.  On  that  high  headland  we  found  a  dry, 
rocky  camping-ground,  and  leaving  the  servant  to 
get  the  tea  ready,  we  went  up  on  to  a  side  rock  to 
watch  for  a  while  the  march  of  the  waves  still  roll 
ing  landward  from  the  sea.  The  child  sat  on  my 
lap,  and  looked  with  wondering  eyes  on  the  billows, 
as  they  rose,  ramping  up  the  black  rocks,  and  broke 
in  a  wild  roar  like  lions  disappointed  of  their  prey. 
We  too  sat  silent,  awed  by  the  spectacle  of  this  incal 
culable  force.  At  last  a  larger  wave  sent  over  us  a 
shower  of  spray.  We  retreated  to  our  tea-camp, 
and  threw  ourselves  down  on  the  cushions  we  had 
brought.  Behind  us  the  far  cliffs  of  Newport,  the 
Beehive  Hills,  and  the  higher  slopes  of  the  larger 
mountains  were  masses  of  red  and  gold,  with  here 
and  there  somber  contrast  of  dark-green  pine  and 
spruce. 

"Ah,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Vincent,  sadly,  "the  fall 
has  come.  I  do  not  like  the  season,  but  I  do  like  our 
word,  the  fall.  It  seems  so  prettily  to  predict  the 
spring.  How  beautiful  it  is  !  " 

"Indeed,  I  wish  it  were  spring,"  said  my  wife. 
"  The  birds  are  leaving  us.  They,  at  least,  are  sure 
of  endless  spring.  What  are  those  lines,  Owen,  St. 
Clair  liked  to  repeat  ?  " 

"You  mean  about  the  cuckoo?    Logan's  or  Mi- 


480  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

chael    Brace's?     I    certainly  think   them    Logan's 
1  The  Cuckoo's  Return  in  Spring.' 

What  time  the  daisy  decks  the  green, 

Thy  certain  voice  we  hear; 
Hast  thou  a  star  to  guide  thy  path, 

Or  mark  the  rolling  year? 

And  then,  I  forget  the  rest,  all  but : 

Thou  hast  no  sorrow  in  thy  song, 
No  winter  in  thy  year." 

"I  did  not  know  the  lines,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 
"  We  could  not  well  afford  to  lose  these  minor  poets. 
Just  think  what  a  tender  little  thrill  of  pleasure  it 
gave  us  all,  this  small  voice  out  of  the  last  century. 
It  makes  one  think  of  Victor.  You  said  you  had  a 
letter  from  him,  Alice.  It  is  now  six  weeks,  and  we 
have  not  had  a  line  from  any  of  them,  except  that 
brief  note  to  say  that  Sibyl  had  been  the  better  for 
the  voyage." 

"  I  have  one  from  Mr.  St.  Clair  and  one  from  Clay- 
borne,"  returned  my  wife.  "  They  came  just  as 
your  buckboard  drove  up  for  us.  Here  they  are.  I 
left  them  unopened  until  we  could  read  them  to 
gether." 

"  And  there  are  none  for  me  ? "  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 
"  He  should  have  answered  me  about  the  curtains  in 
the  red  room." 

"  I  am  sure,  Anne,  that  is  a  perfectly  simple  thing. 
Why  should  you  plague  the  man  about  his  curtains  ? 
You  will  hear  soon,  I  am  sure ;  and  if  not,  what  does 
it  matter  ? "  she  added,  amiably  contented,  while  Vin- 


DE.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  481 

cent's  face  suggested  an  immature  smile,  and  I  re 
plied  in  kind. 

u  Victor  writes :  '  I  sail  for  Japan  to-morrow.  I 
stayed  a  good  while  in  Salt  Lake  City  with  the 
Mormons,  in  a  Mormon  house.  The  man  had 
modestly  contented  himself  with  four  wives.  One, 
he  said,  was  a  fine  cook.  One  was  the  intellectual 
wife,  and  doctored  the  family.  There  were  lots 
of  books  about.  One  wife  was  a  really  good  mu 
sician,  and  one  was  young  and  very,  very  pretty. 
It  seemed  an  intelligible  arrangement  and  worthy 
of  imitation.  He  calmly  ordered  "either  dear 
charmer"  away  at  will,  which  seems  agreeably  to 
dispose  of  a  difficulty.  I  did  not  venture  to  raise 
the  question  of  multiplicity  of  mothers-in-law.  Ar- 
temus  Ward  is  not  used  as  a  classic  in  their  public 
schools.  If  you  read  Artemus  on  Mormons  you 
will  know  why.  I  went  from  home  a  much-dis 
gruntled  man.  I  am  not  sure  I  was  wise  to  go  away, 
or  at  least  to  the  Eastern  world.  I  should  have  gone 
to  Europe  with  Clayborne,  who  never  scolds  me,  and 
who  accepts  me  as  I  am.  I  had  better  have  gone 
with  them  and  faced—  Here  my  wife  stopped  and 
became  slightly  embarrassed.  "The  rest  is  rather 
personal,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  not  read  it.  What  does 
Mr.  Clayborne  say  ?  I  gave  you  the  letter,  Owen." 

"  Yes ;  shall  I  read  it  aloud  ? " 

"  Of  course." 

It  was  like  all  of  the  scholar's  epistles,  brief.  I 
have  known  several  great  talkers  who  always  wrote 
condensed  letters.  He  spoke  cheerfully  of  Sibyl,  and 
thought  Schwalbach  had  been  and  continued  to  be 


482  DE.   NOBTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

of  use  to  her.  She  was  forbidden  to  write.  Her  ex 
treme  pallor  had  left  her,  and  she  had  now  a  pretty 
color  which  went  and  came. 

There  was  pleasant  comment  on  the  good  news  of 
Sibyl,  and  I  read  the  postscript :  " '  I  am  more  troubled 
here  than  at  home,  because,  among  this  mass  of 
strangers,  now  and  then  Sibyl  overhears  things  she 
had  better  not.  Yesterday  some  one  said :  "  What  a 
pretty  girl !  Pity  she  is  so  crooked."  I  was  with  her 
at  the  time,  and  observed  how  it  hurt  her.  You 
know  how  strangely  keen  is  her  sense  of  hearing.' " 

"  My  poor  Sibyl,"  said  Alice. 

Upon  this  Mary  expressed  herself  in  this  wise  and 
with  much  emphasis : 

"  Sibyl  she  did  tell  me  cwooked  people  could  never 
inawy.  I  heard  papa  say  Cousin  Wictor  he  was 
vewy  cwooked  sometimes.  So,  mama,  if  bofe  was 
cwooked—" 

Here  mama  thought  fit  to  check  this  small  disposer  of 
fate.  Mary  replied :  "  But  I  can't  help  finking,  mama." 

We  laughed  and  went  off  to  the  cliff  edge  again, 
and  had  our  tea  and  cigars,  and  waited,  stilled  by  the 
thunder  voices  of  the  sea.  By  and  by  it  fell  dark  and 
darker,  and  then  the  heave  and  tumble  and  crash  of 
the  billows  became  glorious  with  phosphorescent 
lights,  the  fireflies  of  the  ocean,  and  this  was  the  last 
of  a  too  eventful  summer. 

I  asked  my  wife  no  questions  as  to  the  part  of  St. 
Glair's  letter  which  she  would  not  read  aloud.  We 
both  held  sacred  the  secrets  of  others,  and  felt  that 
the  union  which  seeks  too  completely  to  merge  two 
individualities  into  one  does  not  fitly  represent  the 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  483 

ideal  republic  of  marriage.  However  curious  I  was, 
and  I  am  an  intensely  curious  man,  I  asked  no  ques 
tions  as  to  the  matter. 

And  yet  I  was  very  curious.  I  was  still  more  so 
when,  two  months  later,  Mrs.  Vincent,  coming  in  to  af 
ternoon  tea,  said :  "  I  got  this  envelop  from  St.  Clair 
to-day,  from  Burma.  I  suppose  it  was  intended  to 
inclose  a  letter.  There  was  nothing  within  it.  Is 
not  that  like  him  ?  " 

A  week  later  this  lady  showed  my  wife  a  short 
note  from  the  poet.  It  said  merely  that  he  wanted 
to  apologize  for  having  failed  to  inclose  the  letter, 
and  to  add  that  he  was  very  glad  he  had  so  failed. 

"And  now,"  cried  Anne  Vincent,  "I  shall  never 
see  it.  What  could  he  have  said  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  returned  my  wife. 

"  Of  course  not,  dear  •  but  you  do  want  to  know,  and 
it  was  very  like  him  and  very  exasperating.  He 
knows  perfectly  well  how  much  I  dislike  these  mys 
teries  to  which  he  treats  us  now  and  then." 

"  It  was  a  quite  natural  accident,  Anne,  to  leave  out 
his  letter,  and,  for  my  part,  I  often  wish  I  had  never 
written  some  letters  or  had  neglected  to  inclose  them. 
I  do  not  think  he  should  be  blamed  for  so  common  an 
accident." 

"  My  dear  Alice,"  said  her  friend,  setting  down  her 
tea-cup,  "since  Victor  helped  to  save  my  godchild 
you  flash  up  at  the  mildest  comment  on  this  riddle 
of  a  man.  I  cannot  be  wholly  deprived  of  the  privi 
lege  of  abusing  my  friends." 

"  As  much  as  you  please,  dear,  but  not  to  me,  and 
not  St.  Clair  or  my  dear  bear." 


484  DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"Well,  my  love,  I  promise,  and*  I  do  understand. 
You  must  know  that." 

Vincent  came  in  at  this  moment.  He  had  been  ab 
sent  for  a  week. 

"  How  pleasant  to  be  here  once  more  !  Crofter  has 
built  a  steam-ark  of  unheard-of  dimensions.  I  had 
to  see  it,  of  course.  He  sails  for  Europe  in  March. 
Mrs.  C.  has  selected  the  animals.  They  represent 
finance,  family,  and  fashion.  I  told  him  we  really 
could  not  go,  and  now  he  wants  Clayborne  and  Sibyl 
for  a  summer  cruise  in  the  eastern  Mediterranean." 

"  Oh,  we  ought  to  go,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  Well,  I  shall  not  interfere.     Go  by  all  means." 

Of  course  we  saw  more  or  less  of  Crofter  and  his 
very  pleasant  wife.  Sometimes,  it  is  to  be  feared,  he 
did  not  consult  her  tastes  or  ask  her  advice. 

When  Christmas  came  arrived  a  gorgeous  pearl 
necklace  for  Miss  Mary.  My  wife  put  it  away,  and 
the  young  lady  did  not  see  it  for  many  a  year. 

"  It  is  too  absurd,"  said  Vincent.  "  What  can  one 
do  with  a  man  like  this  ? " 

His  turn  came  next  day.  Crofter  sent  him  two 
thousand  cigars.  Vincent  groaned.  I  laughed  and 
said  :  "  Whom  the  gods  of  finance  love  they  overwhelm 
with  many  gifts.  He  has  sent  me  a  priceless  Horace, 
an  incunabula.  I  tremble  to  think  of  the  cost." 

"And  me  a  ruby,"  said  Alice,  "and  I  am  very 
much  obliged  to  him.  He  gave  me  back  my  child. 
What  is  a  ruby  !  " 

"  You  need  not  smoke  the  cigars,  Fred,"  said  I. 

"  Thank  you  for  sage  advice." 

"  My  wife,"  said  I,  "  has  asked  them  to  come  over 


DR.   NORTH    AND    HIS   FRIENDS  485 

for  a  week.  You  will  dine  with  them  on  New  Year's 
day." 

"Certainly.  Anne  cynically  advises  me  to  burn 
the  cigars.  I  suspect  Mrs.  Alice  of  that  mild  jest.  I 
shall  accept  the  counsel.  Anne  says  men  are  incom 
prehensible.  And  the  moral  of  it  all,  Owen  ? " 

"  Good  gracious,  Fred  !  How  do  I  know  ?  Will 
this  run  of  gifts  go  on  1 " 

"I,"  said  Vincent,  "have  sent  him  the  landscape 
by  Rousseau  which  he  admired.  I  sent  it  as  from 
Anne  and  myself.  It  was  her  happy  idea.  Clay- 
borne  will  be  grimly  amused.  I  wrote  him  last 
night  and  asked  him,  as  I  ask  you,  the  moral  of  this 
terrible  fable  of  the  oppression  of  wealth." 

When  this  letter  was  answered  the  scholar  wrote : 
"  El-Din-Attar  has  somewhere  remarked— but  perhaps 
I  had  better  not  quote  it.  One  of  you  would  be  sure 
to  tell  your  wife,  and  then— 

"  And  he,  no  doubt,  calls  that  a  joke/'  said  Vin 
cent.  It  was  not  so  considered  by  the  women  re 
ferred  to. 

The  visit  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Crofter  was  cut  down  to 
three  days.  In  this  I  recognized  Mrs.  Crofter's  judi 
cious  hand.  I  think  Crofter  enjoyed  most  his  con 
quest  of  Vincent,  who  during  the  time  of  their  stay 
was  a  source  of  boundless  amusement  to  Alice  and 
Mrs.  Vincent. 

32 


XXVIII 

|HE  winter  had  gone.     It  was  now  April. 
We  were  sitting  before  dinner,  waiting 
for  the  Vincents.     My  wife,  with  her 
feet  on  the  fender,  turned  to  me  and 
said :    "  Do    you    remember  what  you 
once  said  as  to  the  mysterious  effect  you  believed 
St.  Glair's  presence  had  on  Sibyl?" 
"  Yes,  of  course." 

"All  our  letters  speak  of  her  as  better.  Clay- 
borne  writes :  '  I  did  not  tell  you,  as  I  meant  to  do, 
that  with  the  return  of  health  and  color  the  halt  in 
her  gait  is  at  times  hardly  visible.'  Could  that  be  so, 
Owen  ? " 
"Yes." 

"  And  about  the  other  matter,  will  it  be  the  same  ? 
You  know  I  never  believed  it ;  but,  if  you  were  right, 
could  it  change  ? " 

"  Possibly.  The  sick  and  the  well  are  two  people. 
How  completely  they  may  be  two  we  doctors  alone 
know.'7 

"  Could  you  have  been  wrong  about  it?" 

"  Yes,  I  may  have  been." 

"  You  are  a  very  extraordinary  man,  Owen  North." 

I  laughed,  but  had  no  time  to  question  her  as  to 

486 


DK.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  487 

this  verdict,  because  the  Vincents  entered,  followed 
by  Afton,  whom  I  had  caught  on  his  way  South. 

We  were  a  very  merry  party,  and  the  more  so  be 
cause  of  our  letter  that  day  from  Sibyl,— in  fact,  her 
first  letter,— and  one  from  Clayborne.  Sibyl  wrote 
simply  that  her  winter  in  the  Engadine  had  still 
further  helped  her,  and  that  for  the  first  time  in 
years  she  was  free  from  constant  sense  of  weakness. 
She  spoke  of  all  of  us,  but  not  of  St.  Clair.  Clay- 
borne  wrote  that,  although  she  still  had  the  ethereal 
and  delicate  loveliness  we  all  knew  so  well,  she  was 
able  to  drive  and  to  ride  donkeys  and  to  enjoy  the 
life  of  the  Alpine  winter.  "  Of  course,"  he  added, 
"  she  has  to  be  very  careful,  and  always  will  be  unlike 
other  young  women." 

Afton  was  good  company,  and  the  talk  took  a  wide 
range,  settling  down  at  last  on  handwriting,  as  we 
had  been  looking  over  my  wife's  collection  of  auto 
graphs,  which  were  chiefly  family  papers. 

Mrs.  Vincent  asked  Afton  if  he  believed  that  char 
acter  could  be  read  from  handwriting. 

He  replied :  "If  you  give  me  a  number  of  speci 
mens  of  the  writing  of  one  person— a  dozen  or  so  of 
letters— I  can  sometimes  tell  something  of  the  writer's 
mental  or  emotional  states  at  the  time  he  wrote." 

"But,  beyond  this,"  urged  Mrs.  North,  "as  to  gen 
eral  character  ? " 

"  Try  me,"  he  said. 

Vincent  chose  for  him  to  read  the  unsigned  page  of 
a  rather  angry  letter  from  Washington  to  an  officer. 
Afton  said,  as  he  read :  "  I  think  I  recall  this  writing. 
I  do  not  now  know  whose  it  is.  The  man  was  a  per- 


488  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

son  of  strong  nature.  The  handwriting  gives  no  evi 
dence  of  the  emotion  which  dictated  the  letter.  Show 
me  a  note  of  his.  I  do  not  know  the  hand.  Ah,  yes, 
Washington's !  A  pass.  But  he  did  not  write  it.  It 
is  an  aide's  imitation,  and  so  is  the  signature.  A 
perilous  talent.  As  to  character  in  its  large  sense,  I 
have  at  times  made  queer  hits.  Try  me  again.  I  may 
fail.  I  often  do." 

My  wife  gave  him  a  letter  of  Sibyl's  and  one  of  St. 
Glair's,  both  doubled  over  to  hide  the  signatures. 

He  said :  "  The  woman's  puzzles  me.  It  is  a 
woman.  The  man's— I  at  first  thought  it  to  be  femi 
nine.  He  is  sensitive.  Oh,  an  artist !  It  must  be  Mr. 
St.  Glair's.  That  ends  the  value  of  my  revelations, 
but  I  think—" 

"Well?"  said  Vincent. 

Afton  laughed  merrily.  "  I  will  write  my  opinion, 
what  I  think,  and  one  of  you  shall  read  it.  I— let  me 
look  again — yes,  at  both  letters.  I  prefer  not  to  pub 
lish  my  opinion.  One  of  you  shall  read  it,  and—" 

uLet  us  draw,"  said  I,  and,  much  amused,  we  did 
so.  My  wife  won,  to  Mrs.  Vincent's  dissatisfaction. 

"  But  you  will  tell  me,  dear,"  she  said. 

"  Not  I,"  cried  Alice ;  "  nor  Owen,  nor  anybody." 

Afton  sat  down,  wrote  a  few  words,  put  the  slip 
in  an  envelop,  and  gave  it  to  my  wife.  Without 
reading  it,  she  put  it  in  her  pocket,  after  a  half- 
minute's  search  for  that  receptacle.  We  protested  in 
vain. 

"  Then,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  "  you  must  at  least  tell 
me  a  story." 

"  About  handwriting,"  I  said. 


DR.  NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  489 

"  Severe  limitation,  that,  but  I  accept,"  returned 
Aftou. 

I  said,  as  I  rose :  "  Let  us  all  go  into  the  library 
and  smoke." 

When  we  were  thus  at  ease,  Afton  said :  "  This  is 
a  family  legend,  and,  on  the  whole,  I  would  rather 
not  relate  a  too  incredible  tale.  Will  you  not  ransom 
me,  Mrs.  North  ?  Show  Mrs.  Vincent  my  opinion  as 
to  the  letters." 

"Not  I,  indeed.  I  have  what  Owen  would  call 
your  diagnosis.  It  is  private  property." 

"  It  is,  I  should  say,  a  prognosis,"  said  Afton. 

"That  is  better,"  said  Alice,  "but  we  must  have 
the  story." 

"  Well,  then,  in  the  year  1839  my  father's  surviv 
ing  cousin,  Thaddeus  Afton,  lived  near  Tracadie,  New 
Hampshire.  He  was  a  childless  widower,  very  rich, 
and  of  singular  character.  When  he  and  my  father 
were  young  they  both  loved  one  and  the  same  woman. 
My  father  was  successful.  Thaddeus  broke  off  all 
relations  with  him,  and  they  never  met  again  until  the 
time  of  which  I  am  about  to  speak.  My  father,  the 
most  kindly  man  I  ever  knew,  tried  over  and  over 
to  mend  a  quarrel  not  of  his  making  and  which  he 
honestly  lamented. 

"  In  April,  1839,  my  father  was  hastily  called  to  the 
bedside  of  his  cousin.  Thaddeus  said  to  him  these  ex 
traordinary  things :  1 1  have  hated  you,  Harry  Afton, 
all  my  life.  I  hate  you  still.  You  know  why.  I  have 
left  my  whole  estate  to  hospitals.  I  have  made  you 
my  executor.'  My  father  said, 1 1  have  enough.'  Then 
Thaddeus  returned, 1 1  am  sorry  you  have.  I  wish  you 


490  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

were  poor/  'My  dear  cousin/  replied  my  father,  'I 
am  probably  as  well  off  as  you,  but  no  matter ;  I  am 
most  glad  to  oblige  you.  Whether  I  am  rich  or  poor 
is  of  no  moment.  I  will  act  for  you  most  gladly.' 
When  the  will  was  produced  and  the  witnesses  ready, 
Cousin  Thad  said,  '  I  wish  to  add  a  codicil.  Send  for 
my  lawyer.'  My  father  said,  '  Best  not  to  wait,  Thad/ 
to  which  he  replied  that  it  was  his  business  and  not 
my  father's.  No  more  was  said.  They  waited  at  least 
two  hours  for  the  man  of  law.  At  last  Uncle  Thaddeus 
said,  i  I  suppose  I  ought  to  forgive  you,  Harry,  as  I 
am  going  to  die.  I  do  forgive  you.  It  is  proper  to  do 
so.  But  I  want  it  clearly  understood  that  if  I  should 
chance  to  get  well  I  take  it  all  back.  I  hope  I  make 
myself  plain.  It  is  very  disappointing  to  find  that 
you  are  rich.  I  have  been  misinformed.  But  I  must 
not  wait.  The  will,  quick.  I  can  wait  no  longer.'  On 
this  he  fell  back  dead."  Here  Afton  paused. 

"Is  that  all?"  asked  Mrs.  Vincent.  "But  the 
handwriting  ? " 

"  Yes,  wait  a  little.  That  night  at  ten  o'clock,  when 
all  the  usual  arrangements  had  been  made,  my  father 
went  back  to  the  chamber.  The  unsigned  will  he  put 
in  a  desk.  He  locked  it  and  then  went  out,  also  lock 
ing  the  only  door  and  taking  the  two  keys  with  him. 
The  next  day  he  reentered  the  room  early.  On  the 
table  lay  a  holograph  will  giving  him  the  entire 
estate." 

"What  is  a  holograph  will?"  asked  Mrs.  Vincent. 

"  One  written  throughout  in  the  handwriting  of  the 
testator.  On  the  floor  was  the  desk,  broken  to  pieces. 
The  unsigned  will  was  gone  and  was  never  found. 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  491 

No  one  could  for  a  moment  doubt  that  the  new  will 
was  in  Cousin  Thad's  handwriting.  He  wrote  a 
queer  cramped  hand  like  old  English  writing.  It 
was  without  witnesses,  and,  oddly  enough,  had  been 
sanded ;  for  this  use  of  sand  Thaddeus  always  held 
to." 

Vincent  said :  "  Afton,  that  is  the  strangest  story 
I  ever  heard.  What  do  you  think?  What  opinion 
did  you  personally  form  ?  " 

"  I  formed  none.  Nor  did  my  father.  Was  the 
man  not  dead  when  he  left  him  ?  The  doctors  decided 
that  he  was  dead." 

"  Did  he— could  he  have  risen  and  found  an  older 
will  ? "  asked  Vincent. 

"  No ;  it  was  dated  the  day  of  his  death,  and  he 
was  paralyzed— as  to  his  legs,  I  mean." 

"What,"  I  asked,  "did  your  father  do?" 

"  He  refused  to  take  even  his  legal  share  in  the 
estate.  There  was  endless  litigation." 

"  The  ghostly  part  of  your  story,  Afton,  would  be 
incredible  but  for  the  man  who  tells  it." 

"  I  was  not  there,"  said  Afton,  quickly ;  "  remember 
that." 

"No,  but  your  father  was.  It  is  inexplicable,  I 
admit  that." 

"  What  is  of  more  human  interest,"  said  Vincent, 
"  is  the  enmity  which  hoped  to  find  your  father  poor, 
which  desired  to  disappoint  him,  and  which  so  trusted 
him  as  to  make  him  what  one  might  call  the  execu 
tor  of  a  vengeance  against  himself.  Then,  too,  the 
dying  man  forgives,  or  says  he  does,  and  warns  the 
man  forgiven  that  restoration  to  health  will  can- 


492  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

eel  the  forgiveness.  What  a  pity  the  will  had  not 
had  a  few  dead  witnesses !  Imagine  the  case  in 
court.  Of  course  I  can  comprehend  your  father's 
feelings." 

"The  estate,"  said  Afton,  "was  finally  divided 
among  a  number  of  distant  cousins.  My  father 
disliked  to  talk  about  it  ;  indeed,  he  would  never  do 
so." 

"  You  have  certainly  earned  our  forgiveness,"  said 
Mrs.  Vincent,  "but  as  to  Mrs.  North,  well,  that 
remains  a  vendetta." 

This  was  in  April,  as  I  have  said.  Of  what  was  in 
the  envelop  Afton  gave  my  wife  I  never  heard  a 
word,  nor  shall,  I  presume.  In  June  we  went  to 
the  island  as  usual.  In  July  Clayborne  wrote  that 
St.  Clair  had  met  them  in  Athens,  and  that  they 
had  given  up  their  return  passages  and  would  join 
Crofter  at  the  Piraeus  for  a  cruise  in  the  ^Egean  Sea. 

When  Anne  Vincent  heard  this  news,  she  said :  "  Mr. 
Clayborne  has  very  little  sense,  and  Victor  neither 
sense  nor  feeling.  I  am  sure,  Alice,  that  you  must 
agree  with  me." 

This  time  my  Alice  only  looked  at  me,  smiling,  and 
made  no  reply  to  her  friend's  challenge,  except  to 
say :  "If,  dear,  one  knew  everything,  replies  would  be 
easy." 

Then  Anne  Vincent  said :  "Sometimes,  Alice  North, 
you  are  very  trying." 

To  our  great  regret,  Clayborne  decided  to  remain 
in  Europe  all  winter.  Most  of  the  time  was  spent  in 
Paris,  where  St.  Clair  was  superintending  the  bronze 
cast  of  his  famous  group  of  the  Jesuit  pioneers  for 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  493 

Montreal.  Clayborne  wrote  rarely,  or  only  on  business 
to  Vincent.  St.  Clair  did  not  write  at  all,  and  Sibyl 
merely  very  fresh  accounts  of  things  seen  or  heard. 
In  May  we  ourselves  went  direct  to  Naples  for  a 
three  months'  stay  in  Italy.  We  joined  our  friends 
in  Venice. 


XXIX 

[HEN  we  came  out  of  the  station  on  to 
the  broad  marble  quay  overlooking  the 
Grand  Canal,  we  saw  St.  Clair. 

"  Ah/'  he  cried  joyously,  "  we  gave  up 
your  rooms  at  the  Britannia.     Here  no 
sane  man  lives  in  a  hotel." 

I  considered  this  rather  cool,  even  for  an  old  friend  5 
but  Mrs.  North  said  it  was  delightful,  and  we  went 
away  in  St.  Glair's  gondola,  with  the  baggage  and  ser 
vants  in  another.  St.  Clair,  laughing,  said  we  were 
prisoners  of  joy,  and  would  explain  no  more.  And 
now  it  was  evening.  The  sun  was  nearly  down.  A 
dusking,  orange  haze  was  everywhere. 

My  wife  had  never  seen  Venice.  I  knew  it  well,  and 
then  and  after  had  great  joy  in  making  Alice  know 
it,— the  bits  the  tourist  never  sees,— the  deep,  narrow 
canals,  the  archways,  where  the  shadows  are  centuries 
old,  the  cowled  monks,  themselves  like  wandering 
shadows,  the  ferry  to  Padua,  and  Gobbo  of  the  mar 
ket-place.  History  here  is  hand  in  hand  with  romance. 
Rome  is  my  friend,  but  Venice  is  my  lover. 

We  were  very  quiet  while  the  dark  gondola  swept 
on  through  the  deepening  gloom.  When  we  had 
threaded  many  narrow  water  lanes,  and  it  was  full 

494 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  495 

twilight,  we  swept  out  on  the  broad  Giudecca,  and 
turning,  stopped  at  a  garden  gate. 

"  This  is  home/7  said  St.  Clair. 

In  a  minute  we  were  in  a  wide  space  of  trees  and 
flowers.  Alice  was  kissing  Sibyl  or  holding  her  off  at 
arm's-length,  delightedly  bidding  me  to  see  our  Sibyl, 
if  I  could,  in  the  slender  but  quite  erect  Sibyl  with 
roses  in  her  cheeks. 

Clayborne  had  a  look  of  fresh  happiness  in  his  face 
as  he  saw  our  glad  surprise.  "  Come,"  he  said ;  "  din 
ner  will  be  ready  in  a  half -hour." 

Set  deep  in  the  greenery  of  this  ancient  garden, 
amid  fountains  retired  from  duty  and  crumbling 
gods,  was  this  old  palace,  where  we  owned  for  a  sea 
son  the  second  floor.  There  are  three  quiet  cities  in 
the  world,  and  if  Venice  is  the  stillest,  these  ancient 
homes  on  the  Giudecca  are  of  all  Venice  the  most 
noiseless.  Ah,  how  we  wandered  in  these  new  sur 
roundings  !  I  frankly  enjoyed  the  vast  learning  of 
the  scholar,  the  simple  ease  with  which  St.  Clair 
played  with  his  toys  of  imaginative  thought,  and  the 
pleasure  with  which  Sibyl  used  her  new  strength. 

My  wife  was  like  a  child  in  her  happiness,  but  I 
noticed  that  she  was  quietly  observant  of  these  two 
very  unusual  young  people.  I  myself  saw  nothing 
remarkable  to  observe.  When  I  had  so  said,  Alice 
was  much  amused. 

"  Nothing  to  observe !  Do  not  you  see  that  St. 
Clair  is  at  times  embarrassed  and  awkward  ?  He  is 
thinking  of  what  he  says  and  does.  He  never  used 
to  do  that.  You  men  have  been  idiotic  enough  to 
admit  that  you  do  not  understand  women.  It  is  a 


496  DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

signal  evidence  of  our  superior  intelligence  that  as 
to  the  riddle  man  we  have  made  no  such  damaging 
admission." 

Then  I  began  to  watch  these  two  people.  Victor 
had  a  foolish  scheme  of  going  by  sea  in  an  open 
boat  to  Rimini.  Sibyl  said  it  would  be  dangerous. 
Her  boatman  had  said  so.  We  heard  no  more  of  it. 
When  he  ventured  upon  some  stringent  criticism 
of  Crofter,  I  overheard  her  say :  "  Hush !  you  will 
annoy  Mrs.  North."  Our  reckless  Victor  was  being 
tamed. 

My  wife  said :  "  It  is  wholesome  this  time,  but  per 
haps  it  will  come  to  nothing.  We  may  let  it  alone. 
He  is  getting  older  and,  I  hope,  wiser ;  that  is  all." 

Upon  this  I  quoted  a  posy  she  had  once  used  and  I 
had  liked :  "  True  love  is  a  court  fool.  He  is  sup 
posed  to  be  foolish,  and  is  often  wise." 

As  to  Sibyl,  she  was  less  startling,  more  self-con 
tained,  and  evidently  had  her  full  share  of  that  no 
table  assimilative  power  which  is  the  fortunate  gift 
of  nature  to  the  American  woman.  She  had  won, 
too,  such  health  as  had  enabled  her  to  profit  by  ex 
ercise.  Her  gait  was  rarely  other  than  that  of  vigor, 
and  she  was  assuredly  no  longer  notably  deformed. 
When  I  came  to  hear  how  she  had  been  treated  to 
effect  these  results,  I  was  amazed  at  her  courage  and 
endurance.  Had  she  lost  any  of  the  almost  spiritual 
refinement  of  her  face  ?  I  do  not  know.  Certainly 
there  was  more  of  the  world  in  our  Sibyl,  less  mysti 
cism — just  enough  wholesome  change,  as  Alice  said, 
to  make  you  wish  to  spell  her  name  in  the  more 
modern  fashion. 


DR.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  497 

As  for  Victor  St.  Clair,  he  would  never  be  other 
than  a  more  or  less  peculiar  man  j  but  he  had  always 
taken  moral  color  from  his  environment— not  alto 
gether  a  very  fine  thing,  that,  to  confess. 

There  were  curious  little  things  chancing  at  this 
time,  which  my  wife  watched  and  saw  with  the  in 
terest  of  a  connoisseur.  But  every  man's  mind  has  a 
blind  side,  and  this  was  mine.  At  last  I  chanced  on 
what  did  seem  to  me  a  strange  incident.  We  had 
been  at  evening  to  the  Armenian  convent.  Here 
Sibyl  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  pallid  young 
monk,  who  showed  her,  deep  hidden  in  the  cloistral 
shadow  of  its  shining  leaves,  a  huge  bud  of  the 
greater  magnolia.  When  she  asked  for  it,  St.  Clair 
protested.  She  took  no  notice  of  this,  and  carried 
the  bud  away.  It  was  set  in  a  green  bowl  on  the 
table  of  our  salon.  Two  or  three  times  a  day  for 
two  days  it  partially  opened,  and  then  closed  as 
though  undecided.  Victor  told  her  that  at  this 
time  of  maturing  its  temperature  always  rose.  I 
found  her  sketching  it,  and,  as  it  were,  fascinated. 
Then  at  morning  she  called  me.  "  Come,  Dr. 
North ;  it  is  sure  this  time.  It  has  opened.  Oh,  it 
is  glorious !  " 

It  was  glorious  for  two  days,  a  wonder  of  lucent, 
ivory-like  whiteness,  perfuming  the  great  room.  The 
next  day  early  I  saw  her  looking  with  dismay  at  the 
faded  yellow  wreck  of  its  fallen  beauty.  It  suddenly 
affected  her  as  even  far  less  things  had  at  times  dis 
turbed  her  in  the  more  morbid  past  of  her  life. 

She  said  to  St.  Clair,  as  I  stood  unnoticed  at  the 
door :  "  How  horrible  !  It  is  so  deathful." 


498  DR.   NOETH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

"  I  loathe  it,"  lie  replied.  "  Why  did  you  bring  it 
here  ? " 

"I  was  wrong/7  she  said.  "Even  the  odor  is  dread 
ful." 

She  threw  up  her  hands  in  a  rather  wild  way  as 
she  spoke.  St.  Clair  saw  something  I  did  not  see,  as 
her  back  was  toward  me.  He  said  quickly :  "  Take 
care,  Sibyl,  take  care  j  control  yourself." 

She  turned  on  him  sharply :  "I  am  not  Sibyl,  Mr. 
St.  Clair." 

"Ah,"  he  replied  in  his  gentlest  tones,  "you  are 
not.  You  were.  Was  I  rude  ?  " 

On  this  she  said,  as  softly,  "  Pardon  me,"  which, 
on  the  whole,  seemed  to  me  irrelevant.  At  this  mo 
ment  I  coughed.  When  I  mentioned  all  this  to  Alice 
she  said  I  might  have  had  more  tact. 

These  were  happy  weeks  for  our  little  maid.  She 
sat  hand  in  hand  with  her  adored  Sibyl  as  the  gon 
dola  shot  out  under  the  moon  of  Venice  and  wan 
dered  among  the  islands,  or  else  she  strolled  about 
afoot  with  Cousin  Victor,  and  was  fetched  home 
loaded  with  strange  gifts.  Best  of  all  it  was  when 
St.  Clair  took  the  bowman's  oar  and  delighted  the 
gondoliers  as  Sibyl  and  he  sang  their  own  Venetian 
songs.  Ah,  brief  and  happy  days— alas !  too  soon 
at  an  end.  We  had  overstayed  our  time,  and  it  was 
imperative  that  I  return  home.  My  wife  said  it  was 
like  leaving  a  theater  before  the  play  was  over. 

We  returned  by  Naples,  and  went  up  to  our  island 
home,  where  we  found  Mrs.  Vincent  alone.  I  fear 
that  my  friend  found  me  unsatisfactory.  I  said  that 
Clayborne  was  well,  and  Sibyl  wonderful,  and  St. 


DE.   NORTH  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  499 

Clair  less  of  a  delightful  fool  than  usual.  I  thought 
he  was  becoming  older  and  more  staid.  Anne  Vin 
cent  was  apparently  better  pleased  with  Mary,  who 
was  perilously  awake  to  all  that  she  was  meant  not  to 
see  or  to  hear.  She  may  have  collected  facts  quite 
unknown  to  me.  For  a  day  my  wife  was  too  busy  to 
be  socially  interviewed ;  but  Anne  Vincent  was  heard 
later  to  declare  that  Alice  North  was  sometimes  in 
conceivably  lacking  in  capacity  to  observe.  This 
greatly  amused  me.  To  some  such  charge  Alice  had 
replied : 

"  My  dear,  there  is  so  much  to  see  in  Venice  that  one 
hardly  notices  what  one's  companions  are  about.  By 
the  way,  I  bought  you  the  lace,  but  it  was  very  dear." 

Alice  likes  nothing  better  than  to  keep  a  secret 
from  Anne  Vincent.  Was  there  a  secret? 


TTT»  <--VT  THE 


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